;  yyi  d  V)  S 


LIFE  STORIES 

OF 

NATIVE  HELPERS 


INDIA  -  CEYLON  -  CHINA 
JAPAN  -  AFRICA  -  MEXICO 
TURKEY  ■  THE  BALKANS 


LIFE  STORIES 

OF  NATIVE 
HELPERS 


IN 

INDIA  -  CEYLON 
CHINA  -  JAPAN  -  AFRICA 
TURKEY  -  MEXICO 
THE  BALKANS 


Woman’s  Board  of  Missions 
14  Beacon  Street 
Boston,  Mass. 


THE  VERMONT  PRINTING  COMPANY 


BRATTLEBORO,  VERMONT 


CONTENTS 

Page 


Gurubai  Karmarkar,  M.D.,  India .  5 

Mary  Achimuttu  Chellayah,  Ceylon .  13 

Koume  Sumiya  of  Japan .  19 

Mrs.  Yin  of  Peking,  China .  27 

Mrs.  Hu  Chin  Ging  of  Foochow,  China .  31 

Anna  Felician  of  Turkey .  37 

Fatima  Hanum  of  Bulgaria .  43 

Nomdehe,  an  African  Princess .  49 

Dona  Felicitas  of  Mexico .  57 


Gurubai  Karmarkar,  M.D 


GURUBAI  KARMARKAR,  M.D. 

One  of  India  s  Leading  Physicians 


By  Anstice  Abbott 


'TTjfN  a  Christian  home  in  Belgaum,  Western  India,  was  born 
jl  a  baby  girl  who  was  named  Gurubai.  Her  father,  an 
able  pastor  of  one  of  the  churches  under  the  London 
Missionary  Society,  was  determined  that  the  little  daughter 
should  have  every  opportunity  for  education  which  he  could 
provide.  As  a  child  she  was  fond  of  study  and  soon  outgrew 
the  schools  at  Belgaum,  so  when  she  was  fourteen,  the  parents 
placed  her  in  a  mission  school  in  Bombay. 

During  her  sojourn  in  that  city  she  was  intimate  with  the 
family  of  one  of  the  Indian  pastors  and  it  was  natural  that  a 
deep  affection  should  develop  between  Gurubai  and  the  oldest 
son,  Sumantrao  Vishnu  Karmarkar.  Her  parents  had  other 
plans  for  Gurubai,  for  they  had  many  wealthy  relatives  and 
looked  for  a  more  ambitious  marriage,  but  the  young  people 
bided  their  time.  Her  schooling  completed,  she  returned  home 
to  assume  charge  of  the  Girls’  School  in  Belgaum  and  to  take 
an  active  share  in  church  and  Sunday  school  work.  Her  parents 
finally  consented  to  her  marriage,  two  years  later,  to  Mr.  Kar¬ 
markar. 

Mr.  Karmarkar  was  a  young  man  of  great  promise  who  had 
received  a  fair  education  and  had  been  licensed  by  the  American 
Mission  as  a  preacher.  Being  filled  with  a  longing  to  preach 
Christ  acceptably  and  convincingly  to  his  fellow  countrymen, 
and  being  dissatisfied  with  his  present  attainments,  he  planned 
to  go  to  the  United  States  for  higher  study  and  further  prepara¬ 
tion.  Mrs.  Karmarkar  desired  to  study  medicine  that  she 
might  help  to  relieve  the  awful  sufferings  of  Indian  women  and 
children.  Their  missionary  friends  encouraged  them  in  their 


6 


Native  Helpers 

purposes  and,  in  1888,  the  preacher  and  his  young  wife  sailed 
from  Bombay  at  their  own  charges. 

Mr.  Karmarkar  studied  at  Hartford  Seminary  and  at  Yale, 
receiving  his  degree  of  B.D.,  from  the  latter  University.  Guru- 
bai,  entered  the  Philadelphia  Women’s  Medical  College,  and 
gave  herself  enthusiastically  to  her  preparation.  While  she 
fully  appreciated  the  great  kindness  she  received  on  every  hand, 
yet  there  were  occasionally  pathetic  or  comic  allusions  in  her 
letters  home  to  the  difficulty  she  had  in  adjusting  herself  to 
the  new  surroundings,  especially  in  the  matter  of  food.  There 
were  other  difficulties  in  understanding  the  technical  English 
of  the  medical  course,  and  the  language  and  customs  of  the 
people  among  whom  she  was  thrown. 

When  in  October,  1893,  the  now  Rev.  Sumantrao  Karmarkar 
and  his  wife,  Doctor  Gurubai  Karmarkar,  returned  safely  to 
Bombay  after  their  five  years’  absence,  they  were  warmly 
welcomed  by  a  host  of  friends,  Christian  and  non-Christian, 
and  put  on  the  staff  of  the  Marathi  Mission.  Mature,  in  fine 
health,  enthusiastic,  they  were  well-equipped  for  work.  In  1894 
they  were  appointed  to  Bassein,  an  important  town  not  far 
from  Bombay,  he  to  evangelistic  and  educational  work  and  she 
to  medical  and  evangelistic  work  among  women. 

Personal  description  cannot  be  satisfying,  but  the  general 
impression  of  Dr.  Gurubai  is  of  one  comely,  dignified,  genial  and 
hospitable,  full  of  energy,  and  purpose.  At  Bassein,  she  was 
a  novelty,  wonderful  in  her  accomplishments.  Her  home  was 
a  revelation  to  the  people  of  what  an  Indian  home  might  be. 
Neat,  attractive,  pure  in  its  atmosphere,  having  some  European 
comforts  and  novelties  but  still  the  home  of  an  Indian  woman. 
The  little  organ  and  Dr.  Gurubai’s  ability  to  use  it,  were  a 
never-failing  attraction  and  her  medical  skill  seemed  marvel¬ 
lous. 

Although  women  might  be  found  almost  every  hour  of  the 
day  on  her  veranda,  or  near  it,  yet  they  were  slow,  at  first, 
to  avail  themselves  of  her  knowledge,  and  slower  still  to  under¬ 
stand  the  Gospel  message  from  her  lips.  Slights,  contempt, 
and  even  abuse,  were  not  wanting  in  her  experience,  but  these 
greatly  lessened  as  time  went  on.  Shyness,  suspicion,  and  bigo- 


7 


Gurubai  Karmarkar,  M.D. 

try  yielded  before  this  bright,  loving,  capable  woman,  and  when 
she  and  her  husband  were  called  to  Bombay  for  more  extended 
and  important  work,  they  left  many  friends  to  mourn  their 
departure. 

This  was  the  time  when  the  hospitable  home  had  welcomed 
young  Brahmans  who  were  seeking  the  truth  of  Christianity 
in  a  somewhat  secluded  place;  the  Christian  wife  seconding 
by  her  home-keeping,  the  truth  which  her  husband  taught  and 
exemplified.  The  young  men  could  appreciate  the  Christianity 
of  the  Karmarkar  home  without  partaking  of  its — to  them — 
defiled  food. 

In  taking  up  work  in  Bombay,  the  Karmarkars  soon  identi¬ 
fied  themselves  with  the  church  and  all  its  interests.  Dr. 
Gurubai  was  appointed  family  physician  to  the  Mission  board¬ 
ing  schools  and  became  also  physician  for  the  Christian  resi¬ 
dents,  having  the  special  care  of  the  women  and  children.  A 
small  dispensary  was  opened  to  which  many  Hindu  as  well  as 
Christian  women  came  for  consultation  and  treatment.  She 
was  especially  happy  in  being  called  to  treat  Hindu  and  Mo¬ 
hammedan  women  of  the  higher  classes  who  could  not  mingle 
with  the  poor  and  lowly  at  the  dispensary. 

Her  skill  soon  brought  her  into  public  notice  and  within  a 
few  years  she  was  called  to  Baroda  to  take  the  place,  during 
furlough,  of  the  head  physician  of  the  Jumnabai  Hospital  for 
Women.  She  also  served  in  the  same  capacity  at  the  Cama 
Hospital  in  Bombay,  during  the  absence  of  the  English  lady  who 
was  at  its  head.  While  in  Baroda,  she  treated  and  was  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  family  of  the  Gaekwar  (ruling  prince) 
and  was  recalled  more  than  once  to  some  of  the  princesses  after 
her  return  to  Bombay. 

In  1897,  Dr.  Karmarkar  had  another  role  and  a  sad  one  to 
perform.  In  the  fearful  famine  in  Central  India  the  mission¬ 
aries  of  the  various  missions  did  all  they  could  to  take  care  of 
the  women  and  children  but  finding  the  task  greater  than  they 
were  able  to  cope  with,  they  sent  appeals  to  the  missionaries 
of  the  Western  Province,  to  take  some  of  the  poor  wretches. 
Mr.  Karmarkar  and  Dr.  Gurubai  were  appointed  by  the  Ameri¬ 
can  Marathi  Mission  in  Bombay  to  visit  the  famine  regions, 


8 


Native  Helpers 

with  the  result  that  they  sent  away  and  brought  down  with  them 
many  widows  and  children  who  were  in  most  pitiable  plight. 
Other  helpers  also  were  sent  up  and  altogether  three  or  four 
hundred  children  and  many  widows  were  added  to  the  care  of 
the  Mission. 

Dr.  Gurubai’s  work  was  therefore  greatly  increased  but,  not 
content  with  seeing  the  boarding  schools  and  widows’  home 
filled  up  with  the  starving  and  emaciated,  she  took  into  her 
own  home  twelve  children — one  little  creature  picked  out  of  a 
gutter  nearly  dead.  This  was  by  no  means  a  spasmodic  benevo¬ 
lence  on  the  part  of  the  Karmarkars.  Two  or  three  little  ones 
died  in  spite  of  every  attention,  but  the  others  have  been  brought 
up  as  their  own  with  family  love  and  care.  The  first  of  these 
famine  waifs  to  obtain  the  degree  of  A.B.  is  now  studying 
medicine  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

In  the  autumn  of  this  famine  year,  the  plague  which  had 
appeared  in  Bombay  the  year  before,  broke  out  with  violence 
a  second  time.  Dr.  Gurubai’s  calm  devotedness  was  invaluable 
to  the  Christian  community  and  not  only  the  Christians;  many 
a  Hindu  woman  received  her  care  who  otherwise  would  have 
died  as  uncared-for  as  any  animal.  As  the  plague  has  visited 
the  city  periodically  ever  since,  with  more  or  less  malignancy, 
she  is  always  on  the  alert  during  its  usual  run  of  thirteen  weeks. 

It  is  not,  however,  only  as  a  doctor  that  we  must  know  our 
friend,  Mrs.  Karmarkar.  She  is  an  able  and  interesting  speaker, 
often  called  upon  for  addresses  in  Marathi  and  English.  The 
Young  Women’s  Christian  Association,  the  Christian  Union 
of  Women  Workers,  the  Annual  Conference  of  Indian  Christian 
Women  and  other  gatherings  have  the  privilege  of  her  counsel 
and  encouragement. 

Twice  she  has  been  sent  to  Europe  as  the  Indian  delegate  to 
the  International  Conference  of  the  Y.  W.  C.  A. — to  Paris, 
in  1906  and  to  Stockholm,  Sweden,  in  1914.  These  privileges 
were  greatly  appreciated  by  her  and  her  pleasure  in  new  friend¬ 
ships  was  reciprocated  by  those  with  whom  she  was  brought 
into  contact. 

Dr.  Gurubai  truly  enjoys  social  life  and  is  always  a  welcome 
guest  in  missionary  circles  as  well  as  in  Indian  homes.  She  is 


9 


Gurubai  Karmarkar ,  M.D. 

one  of  the  few  Indian  Christian  women  who  are  invited  to  the 
purdah  parties  of  the  Indian  National  Association.  European, 
Parsi,  Hindu,  and  Mohammedan  ladies  form  a  kaleidoscope 
of  silks,  gauzes  and  flashing  jewels,  but  Dr.  Karmarkar,  although 
in  comparatively  simple  attire,  is  never  out  of  place  nor  is  she 
a  wallflower. 

She  is  also  a  gracious  hostess.  Among  those  who  have  shared 
the  hospitality  of  the  Karmarkar  home,  are  many  tourists  who 
have  been  invited  to  a  typical  Indian  jaywan.  They  can  recall 
sitting  on  the  floor,  in  various  fashions  comfortable  or  other¬ 
wise,  a  profusely  decorated  tablecloth  or  floor  before  them, 
huge  plantain  leaves  for  plates,  and  an  unaccustomed  abundance 
and  variety  of  things  known  and  unknown  pressed  upon  them. 

Dr.  Gurubai  was  a  helpmeet  to  her  gifted  and  consecrated 
husband,  not  only  in  the  making  of  the  home  and  its  influence, 
but  in  many  other  ways.  When  he  had  erected  his  “Good  Will 
Hall”  for  special  evangelistic  work,  she  had  a  corner  set  apart 
for  a  dispensary  which  she  visited  three  times  a  week.  In  the 
meetings  that  were  daily  held  in  this  place,  she  was  often  found 
at  the  little  organ  when  other  helpers  failed.  When  it  was 
possible,  she  lingered  to  visit  the  women  living  in  the  vicinity, 
always  carrying  the  Gospel  message. 

For  some  years  Mr.  Karmarkar  had  led  a  strenuous  life  in 
the  service  of  Christ,  while  suffering  from  an  insidious  disease. 
His  wife’s  care  and  anxiety  for  him  only  ceased  when  he  was 
suddenly  called  to  his  Eternal  Home  in  1912.  Outwardly 
brave,  bearing  in  Christian  resignation  her  great  bereavement, 
she  was  able  after  some  weeks  of  quiet  retirement  to  take  up 
again  her  medical  work. 

Now  we  see  her  keeping  regular  afternoon  hours  at  the  Good 
Will  Dispensary,  spending  three  mornings  at  the  Agripada 
Dispensary,  the  branch  dispensary  for  women  and  children  in 
the  large  district  occupied  by  thousands  of  mill  hands.  Other 
mornings  are  given  to  her  large  private  practice  and  to  visiting 
the  schools.  The  doctor  has  oversight  of  the  health  of  these 
girls  in  the  Mission  High  School,  not  merely  caring  for  them 
when  ill,  but  teaching  them  laws  of  hygiene. 

We  cannot  leave  our  friend  without  giving  at  least  a  touch  of 


i  o  Nati ve  Helpers 

description  of  the  women  for  whom  she  labors,  and  who  serve 
as  a  setting  to  the  picture  we  have  tried  to  present  of  her. 

Dr.  Karmarkar  has  had  on  an  average  8,000  patients  a  year. 
A  majority  of  these  are  Indian  women,  Hindu  and  Mohammedan. 
Some  are  half-clad,  dishevelled  creatures  bringing  children 
with  every  imaginable  complaint.  For  themselves,  they  rarely 
consult  the  Christian  doctor,  at  least  with  any  idea  of  taking  her 
medicine,  for  they  have  too  many  superstitions  of  their  own  and 
are  callous  to  suffering.  The  middle  classes,  or  castes,  are  more 
amenable  to  the  doctor’s  treatment.  A  majority  did,  at  first, 
cling  to  the  old  remedies  while  taking  the  new,  the  result  being 
far  from  satisfactory  to  patient  or  physician.  In  later  years, 
however,  there  has  been  a  great  change.  The  doctor’s  skill  and 
kindness  have  conquered  and  an  increasing  number  rely  upon 
her  care  and  look  forward  in  faith  to  her  visits. 

The  women,  however,  who  seem  to  appreciate  and  to  benefit 
the  most  are  those  of  the  highest  in  caste,  or  in  wealth  and  posi¬ 
tion.  Since  the  doctor  must  visit  these  in  their  secluded  homes, 
there  is  more  time  for  acquaintance  and  friendliness  as  well  as 
for  treatment.  Mohammedan  and  Hindu  ladies  have  thus 
the  best  opportunity  for  hearing  of  the  Great  Physician  and 
His  marvellous  power  in  the  healing  of  sin-sick  souls.  A  Brah¬ 
man  Christian  nurse  is  a  helpful  assistant  in  this  private  practice. 

Indian  women,  gentle,  patient  and  lovable,  as  a  whole,  but 
yet  ignorant,  full  of  superstition,  and  of  unclean  mind,  are 
indeed  sin-sick.  A  doctor  like  our  Gurubai  Karmarkar,  who  is  a 
true  Christian  woman,  is  as  invaluable  to  their  souls  as  to  their 
bodies,  for  she  brings  them  to  a  Divine  Healer  and  Saviour. 


tr 


Mary  Achimuttu  Chellayah 


MARY  ACHIMUTTU  CHELLAYAH 

An  Elect  Lady  of  Ceylon 

By  Helen  I.  Root 


CARCELY  more  than  a  child,  the  much-loved  daughter  of 
a  nominally  Christian  home  in  Jaffna,  the  subject  of  this 
sketch  was  married,  almost  a  generation  ago,  to  a  brilliant, 
irreligious  young  man.  He  took  her  away  from  her  childhood 
home  to  live  in  India,  a  country  that  seemed  to  her  very  far 
away  though  really  the  coast  of  it  is  just  next  door,  across  a 
narrow  straight.  Christian  friends  protested  at  the  sacrifice 
of  this  beautiful  young  girl  on  the  altar  of  family  pride  and  with 
sad  hearts  they  saw  her  go  away,  supposing  that  she  would  drop 
back  into  the  wretchedness  and  folly  of  the  Hindu  woman’s 
hopeless  life. 

At  rare  intervals  Mrs.  Chellayah  returned  and  their  hearts 
were  still  more  sad  for,  in  accepting  the  choice  made  for  her, 
she  had  apparently  lost  all  her  early  interest  in  personal  Chris¬ 
tianity.  How  strong  a  hold  Hinduism  took  upon  her  it  is  hard 
to  say.  Probably  she  never  quite  gave  up  the  practice  of  prayer, 
but  outwardly  she  was  like  thousands  of  other  young  Hindu 
wives — richly  dressed,  indulged,  proud  of  her  gifted  husband, 
indifferent  to  spiritual  things. 

Years  passed  and  the  girl  became  one  of  India’s  charming 
women,  marked  by  winsome  modesty  and  grace.  Her  husband, 
after  reckless  years,  came  into  contact  with  Christians  of  the 
most  spiritual  type  whose  lives  bore  out  their  testimony  and 
furnished  him  with  an  argument  unanswerable  as  to  the  reality 
of  Christ’s  power  to  save.  After  a  long,  long  struggle  with  his 
pride  and  sin,  the  young  man  yielded  his  heart  to  God  and  with 
it  all  his  brilliant  gifts,  for  he  was  a  lawyer  of  marked  ability. 


1 4  N at i ve  Helpers 

The  first  task  he  undertook  was  the  winning  of  his  wife  to 
Christ.  Then  together  for  a  few  brief  years  they  served  Him, 
being  constantly  enriched  spiritually  and  coming  to  know  in 
glad  experience  what  it  means  to  be  made  like  Christ  by  the 
cleansing  and  filling  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Such  happy  years  of 
fellowship  in  service!  They  established  their  position  as  Christ¬ 
ians  among  Hindu  and  Mohammedans,  who  respected  their 
new  stand  and  remained  their  friends.  They  went  riding  in 
their  bullock  bandy  about  the  dusty  lanes  searching  out  their 
“dear  Telugu  people”  to  tell  them  of  Jesus. 

They  returned  to  the  home  country,  Jaffna,  and  held  meetings 
at  many  points,  preaching  Christ  with  such  earnestness  and 
effect  that  scores  of  their  friends  and  relatives  were  convinced 
of  the  marvelous  change  in  them  and  of  the  reality  of  their 
religion.  At  one  such  meeting  a  Christian  friend,  who  had 
actively  opposed  this  marriage  years  before,  went  down  on  his 
knees  and  begged  God  to  forgive  him  for  his  unbelief  that 
Chellayah  could  ever  be  saved.  Many  were  won  to  Christ  in 
these  meetings  and  added  to  the  church. 

Returning  to  their  home  in  India,  they  were  for  a  time  in  the 
Salvation  Army  but  their  health  was  not  good  enough  for  active 
service  there,  though  they  retained  the  warm  confidence  of  the 
leaders  in  that  movement.  They  took  especial  interest  in 
helping  the  poor  and  outcast.  These  two  saw  visions  of  the 
day  now  dawning  when  India’s  own  Christian  people  shall 
volunteer  to  give  the  Gospel  to  their  own  countrymen  as  they 
alone  can  do  it.  God  honored  them  with  high  official  position 
and  standing  among  the  people  of  Cudappah. 

There,  in  1895,  Mr.  Chellayah  died  and  his  broken-hearted 
wife,  receiving  with  his  tender  farewell  a  charge  to  carry  on  his 
work,  watched  him  go  “laughing  to  another  country”  with  his 
Saviour’s  name  upon  his  lips. 

To  those  who  know  the  shame  that  India  adds  to  the  widow’s 
sorrow  it  will  be  almost  unbelievable  that  Mrs.  Chellayah  could 
be  so  loved  and  honored  as  she  has  been  since  her  husband’s 
death.  Ceylon  in  many  ways  is  unlike  India,  though  so  near 
it  and  so  nearly  a  part  of  it,  and  this  young  widow  was  able  in 


Mary  Achimuttu  Chellayah  15 

Ceylon  to  take  up  the  threads  of  a  broken  life  and  weave  a 
pattern  of  rare  beauty. 

Doing  first  things  first,  she  exerted  a  quiet  effectual  influence 
in  her  uncle’s  home  where  she  lived.  Its  standards  were  already 
conspicuously  high  and  it  was  her  joy  to  make  the  home  a  center 
of  true  Christian  hospitality.  Then  she  turned  her  attention  to 
the  needs  of  her  own  church.  There  are  no  distracting  “affairs” 
in  the  church  in  Uduvil,  so  all  her  energies  could  be  spent  on 
things  worth  while.  We  find  her  holding  little  house  prayer- 
meetings  among  the  women,  getting  the  timid  to  pray,  helping 
in  times  of  trouble,  encouraging  them  to  follow  Christ  in  earnest. 
She  organized  the  children  as  “Little  Soldiers  of  Jesus”  and 
taught  them  His  ways.  She  was  invited  now  and  then  to  larger 
meetings,  at  first  of  women  only,  and  it  was  discovered  that  she 
had  a  gift  for  effective  public  speaking. 

When  the  missionary  hospital  was  opened  at  Inuvil,  a  mile 
from  her  home,  immediately  Mrs.  Chellayah  proved  her  interest 
in  it  by  going  day  after  day  to  talk  with  the  patients  and  their 
friends  in  the  wards,  after  assisting  in  the  brief  dispensary  ser¬ 
vice.  She  also  aided  in  the  Sunday  afternoon  meetings  in  the 
preaching  bungalow,  bringing  her  little  “Soldiers”  and  some  of 
the  older  Christian  girls.  Some  of  these  young  people  will  never 
forget  the  privilege  of  such  companionship  in  service.  During 
much  of  the  time  since  this  hospital  has  been  doing  its  beneficent 
work  for  the  women  and  children  of  Jaffna,  Mrs.  Chellayah  has 
carried  on  a  Bible  class  for  the  nurses-in-training  and  has  exerted 
a  strong  and  kindly  influence  for  righteousness  throughout  the 
hospital. 

As  time  went  on  other  missionaries  began  to  seek  her  aid, 
sometimes  for  a  series  of  Bible  lessons  for  the  Christian  women 
at  the  station,  sometimes  for  evangelistic  efforts  among  women 
and  girls,  sometimes  for  conferences  and  classes.  In  all  these 
varied  efforts,  she  has  been  remarkably  successful  and  her 
teaching  has  been  acceptable  to  her  own  people  even  when  she 
uttered  burning  words  denouncing  deceit  and  sin.  From  village 
to  village  she  goes,  as  opportunity  offers,  conducting  little  house- 
to-house  meetings  among  Christians  or  Hindus,  often  speaking 
to  larger  gatherings  when  the  call  is  plain,  always  welcomed, 


1 6  Native  Helpers 

always  respected.  Often  she  has  been  called  to  assist  in  gather¬ 
ing  the  ever-ripe  harvest  of  souls  in  the  Uduvil  Girls’  Boarding 
School  and  she  has  helped  many  a  girl  to  make  the  memorable 
choice  between  Christ  and  the  Hindu  god,  Siva. 

In  a  country  where  the  charge  is  often  falsely  brought  against 
God’s  people  that  they  serve  Him  for  financial  gain — and  indeed 
their  general  prosperity  in  contrast  with  those  who  reject  Him 
is  a  striking  fact — it  is  no  small  source  of  satisfaction  to  see  a 
good  number,  among  whom  Mrs.  Chellayah  is  a  conspicuous 
example,  who  do  all  their  work  for  love  of  God.  She  does  not 
need  remuneration  and  she  does  not  take  it,  nor  does  she  make 
her  own  financial  independence  the  excuse  for  leaving  God’s 
work  to  others.  How  it  touches  the  people,  this  free  gift  of 
herself  to  her  Master! 

In  1899  Mrs.  Chellayah  was  largely  instrumental  in  forming 
the  Jaffna  Women’s  Mission  to  cooperate  with  the  Student’s 
Mission  in  missionary  work  in  India.  This  is  an  organization 
of  Christian  women  for  prayer  and  giving.  Its  first  plan — 
statesmanlike  it  proved — was  to  provide  each  member  with  a 
substantial  wooden  box  into  which  some  coin  should  be  dropped 
every  day,  with  a  prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  work. 
No  flimsy  “mite  box”  but  a  good  strong  receptacle  for  large  gifts 
as  well  as  small.  The  Women’s  Mission  did  not  aim  at  regular 
meetings  but  once  a  year  had  a  “box  opening,”  which  was  made 
an  occasion  for  spiritual  refreshing.  At  many  and  many  of  these 
Mrs.  Chellayah  has  been  present  to  make  plain  to  her  country¬ 
women,  less  travelled  and  less  well-informed,  the  needs  of  desolate 
heathen  womanhood  in  India.  Each  year  at  the  public  annual 
meeting  she  has  presented  the  report  and  has  been  most  influen¬ 
tial  in  maintaining  and  increasing  the  interest  in  this  effort  to 
give  the  precious  news  of  Jesus  to  those  in  greater  darkness. 

Never  very  strong  physically  and  often  burdened  with  many 
cares,  this  Christian  widow  has  lived  year  after  year  in  the  center 
of  a  constantly  widening  circle  of  influence.  An  exceedingly 
positive  character,  she  has  aroused  antagonism  but  her  loving 
spirit  has  disarmed  it  without  compromising.  Nearly  always 
robed  in  the  simple  white  drapery  of  her  people,  always  simple 
and  modest  in  bearing,  low-voiced  and  quiet,  she  has  been  true 


Mary  Achimuttu  Chellayah  17 

to  her  convictions  of  duty  in  the  face  of  all  opposition  and  God 
has  honored  her. 

Yes,  there  are  many  other  lives  among  our  Christian  sisters 
in  Ceylon,  beautiful  and  fragrant  with  heavenly  blessing. 
There  are  few  in  any  land  who  combine  so  many  qualities  of 
leadership  and  present  so  fair  a  picture  of  the  redeeming  and 
transforming  love  of  Christ  operating  freely  in  a  yielded  life. 
No  better  statement  can  be  made  of  her  purposes  and  aims  than 
this  which  she  made  herself  in  a  personal  letter  written  some 
years  ago: 

“Since  my  beloved  husband  died,  my  Heavenly  Father  has 
been  very  kind  to  me.  To  do  His  will  is  my  happiness.  I  have 
journeyed  through  the  wilderness  and  am  on  the  banks  of  the 
Jordan  waiting  to  get  into  the  land  of  promise  in  God’s  own  time. 
My  humble  prayer  is  that  the  Lord  will  give  me  strength  to  live 
for  His  glory  till  I  die.” 


KOUME  SUMIYA  OF  JAPAN 

From  Geisha  Girl  to  Bible  Woman 


By  Belle  W.  Pettee 


vgQkN  Christmas  morning  of  the  third  year  of  Kaie,  more  than 
lIHf  sixty-five  years  ago,  a  wee  girl  opened  her  eyes  on  the 
world  of  old  Japan.  Her  father’s  family,  sake-brewers 
and  sellers  for  generations,  occupied  the  present  site  of  the 
North  Church  on  a  busy  street  corner  of  Okayama. 

Her  father,  second  and  favorite  son  of  his  widowed  mother, 
had  received  from  her,  on  his  starting  a  new  home  in  an  ad¬ 
joining  house,  a  box  of  silk  quilts  between  which  she  had  hidden 
from  his  bother’s  eyes  rolls  of  the  local  paper  money  then  current 
in  that  daimiate.  The  tiny  frail  mother  of  this  Koume  (Plum 
Blossom)  passed  away  a  year  and  a  half  later  leaving  this  baby 
and  an  older  half  sister  to  the  father’s  care.  Around  the  corner 
lived  the  mother’s  mother  who  gladly  took  into  her  lonely  home, 
from  which  she  had  lost  her  husband  and  all  four  children,  this 
one  and  only  grandchild,  who  became  doubly  hers  at  the  death 
of  the  father  three  years  later. 

The  upper  servant  in  the  grandmother’s  house  was  a  kind- 
hearted  man  no  longer  young,  a  cabinet-maker  by  trade,  a 
favorite  retainer  and  workman  of  the  daimyo,  Daiyo  Tokura. 
He  soon  won  the  heart  of  the  orphan  child  who  learned  to  call 
him  father  and  lovingly  cared  for  him  till,  bent  with  age  he 
died  a  few  years  ago.  There  were  no  schools  for  girls  in  those 
days  so  little  Plum  Blossom  was  not  taught  much  of  books  but 
she  did  go  to  a  temple  school  long  enough  to  learn  reading  and 
writing  from  the  priest-teacher.  The  fatherly  servant  was  fond 
of  music,  a  skilful  player  on  the  samisen,  or  three-stringed  guitar, 
and  a  good  singer,  so  Koume  early  began  music  lessons. 


20  Native  Helpers 

The  grandmother  was  a  devout  Buddhist  of  the  Hokkei  sect 
and  frequently  took  her  on  pilgrimages  to  different  temples, 
especially  those  of  the  fox  god,  everywhere  making  offerings 
and  prayers  for  the  health  of  the  delicate  child. 

Tall  candles  that  needed  frequent  snuffing  furnished  the  only 
light  at  the  stately  feasts  in  the  daimyo’s  palace  and  the  little 
girl,  in  gay  gowns  of  crape  and  silk,  was  often  called  on  to  pass 
down  the  lines  of  fairy  lights,  snuffing  each  in  turn,  with  the 
quaint  bronze  scissors  hanging  from  the  tall,  gold  lacquer 
candlesticks.  Between  whiles  she  served  the  guests  with  fragile 
cups  of  amber-colored  tea,  and  bowls  of  blazing  charcoal  for 
lighting  the  tiny  gold  or  silver-mounted  bamboo  pipes. 

A  low,  deep  voice  is  the  sine  qua  non  of  a  successful  samisen 
player  and,  following  the  usual  custom,  through  the  coldest 
month  of  the  year  every  morning  at  four  o’clock,  the  little  girl 
went  with  her  faithful  attendant  to  the  wind-swept  bridge  to 
sing  and  sing  till  her  voice  would  crack  and  break.  Returning 
home  at  dawn,  she  would  sit  down  for  hours  of  practice.  So  she 
achieved  the  Kan-goye  (cold  weather  voice)  and  incidentally 
brought  on  the  asthmatic  attacks  which  through  the  years 
have  racked  the  frail  frame  with  nightly  fits  of  coughing.  Even 
yet  the  hands  are  misshapen  from  the  hours  of  twanging  the 
strings  with  the  ivory  plectrum. 

By  the  time  she  was  fifteen  years  old  she  was  a  skilful  musician 
and  had  many  pupils  of  both  sexes.  Meantime  the  family 
fortunes  had  declined.  After  the  Restoration  in  1868,  the  paper 
money  of  the  daimiates  became  worthless.  The  only  income  of 
the  family  was  the  daily  portion  of  rice  given  by  the  daimyo  to 
his  faithful  retainer.  The  young  musician  worked  early  and 
late  with  her  pupils  to  support  the  family  of  three.  Four  years 
later  the  grandmother  died,  and  the  lonely  girl  longed  to  die,  too. 

Her  soul  even  then  was  reaching  out  to  the  Infinite.  The  gods 
of  wood  and  stone  to  whom  she  had  been  taught  to  pray  did  not 
satisfy  her.  As  she  gazed  at  the  flowers  and  the  friendly  stars, 
her  heart  was  reaching  out  for  some  Power  above,  beyond,  some 
Creator  who  knew  and  cared  for  his  creatures.  She  had  a  maid 
from  the  country,  a  girl  whose  heart  was  set  on  becoming  a 
Buddhist  nun,  and  the  two  lonely  unhappy  girls  resolved  to 


21 


Koume  Sumiya 


shave  their  heads  and  go  on  a  pilgrimage  seeking  death,  but 
Kiku’s  mother  hearing  of  their  desires,  promptly  forbade  any¬ 
thing  of  the  kind.  For  a  year  or  more  Koume  was  ill  and  would 
have  starved,  had  it  not  been  for  the  kindness  of  one  of  her 
pupils,  Mr.  Nakagawa,  a  dashing  young  man  who  had  been 
chief  hostler  in  the  daimyo’s  stables.  He  begged  her  to  come 
to  live  with  him,  bringing  her  foster  father  also,  if  she  would. 


Again  and 
fused  till,  when 
was  ill  unto 
ed  to  his  en- 
and  nurse  the 
her  skilful  care 
to  recover  and, 
knowledge  o  r 
Nakagawa 
belongings  to  a 
house.  At  that 
gawas  had  no 
house  was  fall- 
but  under  her 
the  little  shop 
paper  and 
thrive  and  Mr. 
started  the 
money  in  small 
long  she  had 


KOUME  SUMIYA 
From  a  recent  photograph 


again  she  re- 
his  little  son 
death, she  yield- 
treaty  to  come 
child.  Under 
the  baby  began 
without  her 
consent,  Mr. 
moved  her  few 
room  in  his  own 
time  the  Naka- 
money,  their 
ing  to  pieces, 
management 
of  tobacco, 
thread  began  to 
Nakagawa 
lending  of 
sums.  Before 
realized  fifteen 


hundred  yen  (seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars)  which  she  promptly 
passed  over  to  his  wife  for  repairs  on  the  house. 

With  fifty  dollars  her  patron  built  a  small  house  for  his  favorite 
Plum  Blossom  in  a  corner  of  the  garden  where  she  began  the 
selling  of  cloth.  But  just  as  brighter  days  seemed  coming,  a 
thief  carried  off  everything  she  had.  A  second  son  had  been 
born  into  the  family  and  for  that  reason  she  refused  to  accept 
the  gift  of  the  house  built  for  her  use.  Nothing  daunted,  again 
she  helped  her  kind  friend  start  anew — this  time  a  rice  shop 
with  a  servant  of  the  house  to  work  the  foot-power  mill  which 
polished  the  shining  grains. 


22  Native  Helpers 

In  1876  she  first  heard  of  the  God  she  had  been  longing  for. 
Dr.  Taylor  of  the  American  Board  Mission  in  Kobe  and  his 
assistant,  Dr.  Ota,  an  Okayama  man,  came  by  jinrikisha  the 
ninety  miles  from  Kobe  along  the  shores  of  the  Inland  Sea. 
The  miraculous  draught  of  fishes  was  the  subject  of  the  first 
Bible  talk  and  made  a  great  impression  on  Plum  Blossom  and 
the  other  woman  hearer,  Mrs.  Nishi,  wife  of  the  Chinese  scholar 
who  was  Mr.  Nakagawa’s  closest  friend.  The  following  summer 
Rev.  J.  L.  Atkinson  of  Kobe  and  Mr.  Kanamori,  with  two  or 
three  others  of  the  Kumamoto  Band  then  studying  in  the 
Doshisha,  spent  several  days  in  Okayama,  preaching  and  teach¬ 
ing  the  Bible  in  these  two  households.  This  visit  was  followed 
by  others  from  Dr.  Taylor  and  Mr.  Kanamori.  Then  came  the 
memorable  trip  of  Misses  Barrows  and  Dudley,  the  first  Woman’s 
Board  representatives  to  go  into  the  interior  with  the  message 
of  love  and  salvation. 

Gratitude  and  love  had  conquered  Koume’s  sense  of  right  and 
wrong  and  her  friend  and  benefactor  was  the  father  of  the  baby 
girl  that  nestled  in  her  arms.  But  still  she  longed  to  know  more 
of  the  “Jesus’  Way”  and  daily  with  the  women  of  these  three 
households,  Nakagawa,  Nishi  and  Onishi  (the  latter  being  Mrs. 
Nakagawa’s  mother  and  sisters)  she  went  to  study  this  new 
strange  Bible.  “I  came  not  to  call  the  righteous  but  sinners 
to  repentance”  was  the  word  that  brought  peace  to  her  troubled 
heart.  Then  began  the  struggle  between  the  love  of  her  child 
and  its  father  and  this  new  love  of  God  the  Father  and  Christ 
her  Saviour. 

She  went  to  Miss  Dudley  for  counsel  and  was  urged  to  go 
immediately  to  Kobe  to  enter  the  girls  school  just  started  there 
by  Miss  Talcott.  Meantime  Mr.  Nakagawa  had  met  Miss 
Talcott  in  Kobe,  been  much  impressed  by  her  strong  and  winning 
personality  and,  partly  because  he  hoped  this  Western  religion 
would  help  him  in  his  political  ambitions,  and  partly  because 
of  the  pleading  of  the  girl  he  loved,  he  consented  to  give  her  for 
a  time  at  least  into  the  personal  care  of  Miss  Talcott.  Leaving 
her  baby  girl  in  the  care  of  Mr.  Nakagawa’s  wife  she  went  with 
him  to  Kobe  where  he  gave  her  into  Miss  Talcott’s  keeping. 

In  true  samurai  spirit  he  asked  from  Miss  Talcott  a  pledge, 


Koume  Sumiya  23 

something  she  valued,  which  he  might  keep  while  his  loved 
Koume  was  in  her  care.  She  gave  him  a  gold  pencil,  a  precious 
keepsake  of  a  dead  brother,  and  this  same  pencil  he  never  would 
give  up,  but  carried  it  with  him  till  his  death,  years  later,  and 
gave  orders  it  should  be  buried  with  him  in  his  coffin. 

But  Mr.  Nakagawa  missed  his  Plum  Blossom  and  soon  began 
calling  her  back  to  Okayama.  Much  as  she  loved  him,  she  felt 
she  could  not  return,  and  again  and  again  refused  to  go  back 
or  even  to  see  him.  He  sent  one  member  of  the  family  after 
another  to  Kobe  to  fetch  her  home,  but  of  no  avail  till  she  re¬ 
ceived  a  telegram  saying  her  old  foster  father  lay  dying.  She 
could  not  resist  that  summons  and  started,  only  to  be  told  just 
as  she  arrived  at  the  house  that  it  was  all  a  lie.  Nakagawa  had 
ordered  them  not  to  tell  her  till  she  reached  the  door  lest  she 
drown  herself  in  the  sea  by  the  way. 

Then  came  her  time  of  trial.  Not  only  the  man  but  different 
members  of  his  own  and  his  wife’s  family  pled  with  her  to  return 
to  him  and  to  her  child.  They  feared  for  his  reason  if  she 
declined.  For  a  week  the  conflict  raged  betwen  her  love  for 
her  child  and  friends,  and  her  loyalty  to  her  new  Master  and  His 
teachings.  Then  the  wearied  brain  gave  way  and  for  two  months 
she  lay  in  bed  bruised  and  helpless  in  mind  and  body. 

This  so  alarmed  Mr.  Nakagawa  that  when  she  began  to  show 
signs  of  recovery  he  wrote  to  Miss  Talcott  begging  her  to  take 
Koume  again  and  nurse  her  back  to  health  and  strength  even  if 
he  needs  must  give  her  up.  This  letter  of  forty  years  ago,  out 
of  the  depths  of  a  strong  man’s  heart,  came  later  into  Sumiya  San’s 
possession,  and  has  only  just  been  destroyed,  long  after  the 
writer  and  receiver  had  met  in  the  great  Beyond. 

In  the  fall  of  1879,  Sumiya  San,  frail  but  indomitable,  re¬ 
turned  to  Okayama  to  the  humble  home  of  her  foster  father, 
the  carpenter.  Mr.  Nakagawa  refusing  to  give  her  the  keeping 
of  her  child  lest  he  lose  all  hold  upon  her.  Meantime  three 
families  of  the  American  Board  Mission,  the  Berrys,  Carys  and 
Pettees  had  moved  to  Okayama  and  were  living  on  a  hill  just 
east  of  the  city.  Daily  she  walked  the  mile  and  a  half  to  give 
one  of  the  missionary  wives  a  lesson  in  Japanese,  and  in  the 
simple  housework,  in  the  daily  Bible  study  and  in  the  winning 


24  Native  Helpers 

of  the  foster  father,  none  too  eager  to  embrace  the  new  reli¬ 
gion,  the  days  passed  in  preparation  for  the  thirty-six  years  of 
teaching  of  the  Jesus’  Way  which  has  brought  the  knowledge 
of  her  Saviour  to  hundreds  of  her  countrymen. 

From  the  days  of  the  first  Sunday  school  that  was  started  in 
Okayama,  when  she  and  Mrs.  Cary  taught  together  a  class  of 
young  girls,  she  has  been  a  loved  and  successful  teacher  of  all 
grades  from  babies  to  grandmothers.  In  October  of  1880  came 
a  severe  trial  of  her  faith  and  love.  The  little  band  of  believers 
was  organized  into  a  church  and  she  was  refused  baptism  because 
Mr.  Nakagawa  refused  to  break  connection  with  her  and  still 
held  on  to  her  child.  On  the  day  of  that  memorable  service 
on  the  wall  of  the  small  Japanese  house  was  the  legend  in  symbols 
and  words  of  evergreen  “No  Cross,  no  Crown.”  To  the  lonely 
stricken  heart  of  Sumiya  San  it  came  as  a  message  of  love  from 
her  Father  in  Heaven.  Its  comfort  is  with  her  still.  Then  and 
there  she  renounced  all  claim  to  the  child  of  her  heart’s  love. 

Only  a  few  years  passed,  years  of  trial,  of  patience  and  of 
growth  and  she  had  won  her  place,  an  honored  place,  in  the 
church  and  the  father  had  given  the  little  daughter  to  her  un¬ 
reservedly. 

During  those  early  years  while  Miss  Talcott,  released  from 
Kobe  College,  was  a  valued  touring  member  of  Okayama  station, 
Sumiya  San  travelled  with  her  all  through  Okayama  prefecture, 
teaching  in  cities,  towns  and  villages.  Those  were  days  of  per¬ 
secutions,  of  perils  by  land  and  sea,  of  perils  from  exasperated 
fathers  and  mothers  who  even  threatened  the  life  of  the  devoted 
missionary  and  her  helper. 

At  another  time  Tokyo  was  their  home  for  a  few  months,  with 
the  starting  of  a  Woman’s  Society  and  Bible  class  in  the  Bancho 
and  Reinanzaka  churches  and  teaching  of  classes  in  the  Hongo 
Sunday  school.  Lack  of  funds  drove  them  from  the  capital, 
as  distances  were  so  great  and  jinrikisha  fares  so  high  that  a 
single  call  would  often  take  half  a  day  and  cost  two  or  three 
yen  when,  in  the  smaller  cities,  several  families  could  be  reached 
with  less  expenditure  of  time  and  money.  But  that  time  of  seed¬ 
sowing  bears  fruit  even  yet. 

In  the  early  nineties  came  the  craze  for  learning  English  and 


25 


Koume  Sumiya 

also  foreign  knitting  and  crocheting.  Wise  Sumiya  San,  in  a 
rented  house  near  the  church,  started  a  school  for  the  teaching 
of  these  fashionable  branches  of  learning.  Mrs.  Cary  and  Mrs. 
Rowland  were  her  foreign  instructors  and  for  two  years  the 
school  had  almost  phenomenal  success.  The  daily  Bible  lesson 
was  put  in  the  middle  of  the  one  session.  If  it  came  at  the 
beginning  the  pupils  were  late;  if  at  the  end  they  left  early;  in 
the  middle  they  heard  willy  nilly  the  gospel  message.  Even  now, 
here  in  Tokyo,  twenty-five  years  later,  some  of  her  warmest 
friends,  leaders  in  the  woman’s  work  of  the  Kumiai  churches, 
were  pupils  in  that  humble  school  and  date  their  first  knowledge 
of  Christianity  to  those  days  of  the  making  of  socks  and  shawls. 

After  two  years  of  this  strenuous  life  Sumiya  San’s  health 
gave  way  again,  so  with  the  foster  father  and  the  little  girl  she 
came  to  the  small  tea  house  on  the  hill  beside  the  missionary 
homes.  The  quiet  life  under  the  pines,  the  joy  of  the  mother 
and  daughter,  the  happy  Christian  home  brought  new  strength 
to  the  mind  and  body. 

No  story  of  Sumiya  San’s  life  would  be  complete  without 
mention  of  Juji  Ishii  and  his  orphanage.  He  often  called  her 
the  “Mother  of  his  Faith.”  From  the  days  when  a  medical 
student  in  Okayama  he  was  seeking  after  the  truth,  through  all 
the  years  of  his  varying  experiences  to  the  last  weeks  of  his  life, 
she  was  his  friend  and  counsellor,  his  helper  and  leader.  In 
those  early  days  when  food  was  scarce  when  there  were  more 
mouths  to  feed  than  bowls  of  rice,  when  clothing  and  bedding 
had  to  be  stretched  beyond  their  limit,  Mrs.  Ishii’s  motherly 
heart  was  encouraged  and  strengthened  by  Sumiya  San’s  timely 
sympathy  and  many  a  letter  written  by  the  midnight  oil  brought 
in  for  the  orphans  the  sorely  needed  help.  She  was  and  is  the 
adored  “Auntie”  of  all  the  orphans.  Even  now  the  grown-ups, 
with  boys  and  girls  of  their  own,  turn  to  her  in  their  hours  of 
anxiety  and  trouble  and  never  do  they  appeal  in  vain. 

During  the  years  when  the  Orphanage  was  trying  to  reach 
self-support  by  giving  stereopticon  lectures  and  brass-band 
concerts  with  the  orphans  for  performers  throughout  the  country, 
Sumiya  San  often  accompanied  the  troupe  in  order  to  interest 
the  leading  ladies  of  the  town  or  city  to  which  the  Orphanage 


26 


Native  Helpers 

laid  siege.  During  the  Japan-China  war  when  the  Orphanage 
Band  spent  some  months  at  Hiroshima,  the  army  headquarters, 
cheering  off  the  soldiers  as  they  left  for  the  front,  faithful  Auntie 
Sumiya  was  with  them,  comforting  sick  soldiers  in  the  hospitals. 

And  so  the  years  passed  on,  the  foster  father  died,  the  daughter 
grew  to  womanhood  and  was  married  to  Mr.  Y.  Aoki,  a  student 
of  Yale  and  Columbia  and  a  successful  teacher  of  English  in  a 
government  school.  Sumiya  San  is  now  the  happy  grandmother 
of  nine  grandchildren. 

During  the  last  months  of  Mr.  Ishii’s  long  illness  at  the  Orphan¬ 
age  farm  in  Hyuga,  Sumiya  San  was  with  him  much,  and  the 
sorrowing  orphans  big  and  little  still  cling  to  her  as  the  dearest 
representative  of  Father  Ishii.  She  often  goes  back  to  one  of 
the  orphanage  cottages,  which  at  Mr.  Ishii’s  dying  request  she 
still  calls  home. 

Just  now,  in  1916,  she  is  here  in  Tokyo,  picking  up  the  threads 
and  renewing  old  acquaintance  with  women  and  girls,  aye  and 
men,  too,  whom  she  has  known  here,  there  and  everywhere; 
comforting  the  sick,  bringing  out  church  absentees,  reading  the 
gospel  story  with  the  sons  and  daughters  of  old  friends,  speaking 
at  women’s  meetings,  at  old  ladies’  societies,  helping  Bible  women 
with  her  counsel  and  experience.  She  is  frail  and  slight,  but  able 
to  walk  and  talk  and,  thanks  to  the  trolley  cars  which  have  done 
much  toward  annihilating  distances  in  this  big  city  of  Tokyo,  she 
daily  closes  the  gate  of  her  tiny  house  and  is  gone  from  morning 
till  night  on  her  errands  of  mercy  and  help.  She  is  a  sunshine 
carrier  wherever  she  goes,  the  friend  of  old  and  young,  rich  and 
poor  alike.  She  hopes  like  her  beloved  teacher,  Miss  Talcott, 
to  continue  the  work  she  loves  till  the  voice  of  her  Master  calls 
to  the  higher,  fuller  service  in  the  life  beyond. 


MRS.  YIN  OF  PEKING 

A  Survivor  of  the  Boxer  Riots 


By  Bertha  P.  Reed 


'TfifN  the  Church  of  Christ  in  China,  we  give  thanks  for  the 
jl  many  faithful  women  whose  life  and  work  add  to  its 
effectiveness,  and  for  the  Christian  homes  they  make, 
where  the  atmosphere  of  love  and  kindness  bear  witness  to  the 
reality  of  the  Gospel.  Some  of  these  women  have  known  all 
their  lives  the  blessing  of  such  teachings,  but  far  more  have 
grown  up  in  the  midst  of  non-Christian  beliefs  and  practices. 
Among  these  stands  Mrs.  Yin,  long  faithful  in  her  home,  and 
now  working  earnestly  as  a  Bible  woman  in  Peking,  leading 
others  into  the  way  which  she  has  found. 

A  member  of  a  Manchu  family,  her  early  home  was  in  a 
Manchu  encampment  just  outside  Peking.  The  name  “en¬ 
campment”  is  given  to  the  kind  of  settlement  in  which  many 
such  families  are  placed,  a  sort  of  model  town  arranged  by  the 
government,  with  streets  laid  out  in  a  careful  geometrical  plan, 
the  rows  of  houses  all  facing  south  and  each  house  having  its 
own  little  yard.  There  seems  to  be  an  endless  succession  of 
exactly  similar  streets,  so  that  one  wonders  how  a  person  ever 
finds  her  own  abode.  The  houses,  too,  are  very  much  alike. 
No  business  is  carried  on  in  these  places,  but  a  near-by  town 
serves  as  a  market. 

In  former  times  the  houses  were  well  kept  up,  but  now  many 
are  in  a  sad  state  of  decline,  and  falling  walls  and  dilapidated 
roofs  are  a  reminder  of  the  change  that  has  come  upon  the 
people.  There  are  many  such  encampments  in  the  region  about 
Peking,  great  places  full  of  women  and  children,  while  the  men 
are  away  on  duty  as  soldiers,  or  perhaps  serving  the  govern¬ 
ment  in  some  other  way. 


28 


Native  Helpers 

Many  of  these  women,  like  Mrs.  Yin,  are  rather  tall,  with  a 
very  straight  carriage,  head  held  high,  and  walking  with  a 
dignity  and  freedom  of  motion  which  is  possible  only  to  women 
whose  feet  have  not  been  bound.  Many  of  them  still  cling  to 
the  Manchu  garb,  with  its  flowery  headdress,  in  spite  of  the 
prevalence  of  different  fashions. 

In  the  girlhood  days  of  Mrs.  Yin,  education  for  girls  was  un¬ 
dreamed  of,  except  for  those  in  the  church.  But  she  was  still 
quite  young  when  her  parents  betrothed  her  to  Mr.  Yin,  and, 
as  he  had  already  come  into  the  church  and  knew  something 
of  the  value  of  study  for  girls,  he  urged  that  she  be  sent  to  school. 
His  opinion  was  one  to  be  considered,  and  her  father  yielded. 
She  was  an  ambitious  girl,  and  came  with  great  joy,  happy  in 
this  wonderful  chance  to  study. 

But  she  had  been  there  only  a  short  time  when  her  father 
came  one  day  with  a  cart  and  demanded  that  she  go  back.  He 
had  been  much  alarmed  by  the  talk  of  the  neighbors.  Those 
foreigners  would  take  out  her  eyes  to  use  for  medicine,  they 
said;  or  they  might  even  take  out  her  heart.  Who  knew  what 
they  were  doing,  or  how  much  might  be  left  of  her  even  now? 
The  father’s  fears  conquered,  and  he  took  her  home  while  she 
was  still  uninjured. 

After  that  there  was  no  more  study  until  she  married.  Then 
her  husband  brought  her  again  to  the  school,  and  this  time  she 
continued  her  studying  until  she  could  read  quite  well. 

Then  came  years  of  home  life  for  them.  Mr.  Yin  was  a 
colporteur,  and  did  faithful  work  as  he  traveled  about  with  his 
books,  preaching  also  to  the  people  to  whom  he  sold  them. 
By  the  time  of  the  Boxer  year  they  had  three  little  girls.. 

This  was  a  period  of  great  terror  for  them,  as  for  so  many  who 
believed  in  Christ.  They  fled  from  their  home  when  the  Boxers 
came  and  succeeded  at  first  in  escaping  their  persecutors.  They 
hid  outside  the  city,  first  in  a  marsh,  then  in  a  cemetery.  On 
the  second  day,  as  they  wandered  along  the  road,  Mrs.  Yin  was 
seized  by  a  band  of  Boxers  and  bound.  One  held  the  knife 
above  her,  ready  to  take  her  life.  Then  some  one  said,  “Let 
her  go;  her  heart  is  hard.”  She  says  herself  that  she  felt  quiet, 
not  afraid,  and  after  a  time  she  was  allowed  to  go  on. 


Mrs.  Yin 


29 


Again  she  hid  in  the  marsh,  watching  all  night,  while  the  two 
little  girls  with  her  slept.  Mr.  Yin  and  the  third  child  had 
become  separated  from  them.  In  the  daytime  she  wandered 
about,  going  across  the  city,  and  at  night  hid  in  the  corner  of 
the  city  wall.  Another  night  she  found  a  vacant  house  in  a 
field  and  crouched  there,  cold  and  hungry.  They  could  get 
very  little  to  eat,  and  thought  constantly  that  they  would  be 
killed  before  long.  Boxer  bands  were  everywhere,  both  in  the 
city  and  outside,  so  no  hiding  place  seemed  secure. 

At  last  the  mother  said  to  the  little  girls,  “We  will  go  back 
and  see  if  they  are  all  killed.”  First  they  prayed  earnestly, 
one  child  asking  especially  that  she  might  find  her  father  that 
day,  and  then  they  wandered  back  to  the  ruins  of  their  home. 

From  there  she  slowly  made  her  way  to  the  Methodist  Mission, 
and  found  many  Christians  collected  there.  To  her  joy,  she 
found  Mr.  Yin  and  the  third  child  among  them.  He  had  fled 
from  another  band  when  she  was  taken  and  had  gradually 
found  his  way  to  this  place  of  safety.  After  five  days  of  weary 
wandering  she  could  rest  with  her  family  and  many  thanks 
arose  to  God  for  their  wonderful  delivery.  Through  the  time 
of  the  Siege  of  Peking  they  remained  among  the  Christians  in 
the  British  Legation,  helpful  in  many  ways  and  always  deeply 
grateful. 

After  that  terrible  summer  they  lived  in  different  places  in 
the  country,  working  gladly  for  the  church.  Two  boys  were 
added  to  the  family.  But  after  a  few  years  Mr.  Yin  sickened 
and  died  and  Mrs.  Yin  was  left  alone  with  the  five  children. 

Miss  Russell  appointed  her  as  a  Bible  woman  and  for  ten 
years  now  she  has  been  engaged  in  that  work,  and  has  cared 
for  her  family  on  the  small  pay  that  was  all  the  mission  could 
give  her.  Different  persons  have  helped  the  children  at  times 
in  school.  Now  the  oldest  daughter  is  married,  and  the  second, 
a  recent  high  school  graduate,  is  doing  especially  well  as  a 
teacher.  She  plans  later  to  go  through  college  and  then  to 
give  her  time  to  teaching  in  the  church  schools.  The  other 
children  are  still  in  school. 

Mrs.  Yin  has  now  a  more  responsible  place  than  at  first  and 
is  one  of  our  energetic  and  growing  native  helpers.  She  works 


30  Native  Helpers 

with  zeal  for  the  women  she  meets,  and  tries  to  arouse  the 
ambition  of  each  one.  She  is  ready  to  leave  her  city  post  for 
a  country  class  at  any  time  and  there  gives  herself  joyfully  and 
entirely  to  the  women  about  her.  We  have  great  hope  for  the 
work  that  God  will  do  through  her  and  her  children  and  give 
many  thanks  to  Him  that  she  was  saved  from  danger,  and 
brought  to  this  place  of  usefulness. 


HU  CHIN  GING  OF  FOOCHOW 

Once  “ Autumn  Gold”  the  Child  Gambler 


By  Irene  Dornblaser 


missionary  was  on  her  way  home 
Q  after  a  full  day  of  evangelistic  work. 
There  were  many  interesting  sights 
along  the  way,  even  to  one  who  knew  China 
as  well  as  she.  True,  the  picturesque  native 
streets,  with  their  Oriental  signs,  lanterns  and 
draperies,  had  long  since  become  familiar.  So 
had  the  odd  shops.  Here  was  one  where 
meat  was  sold,  its  queer  cuts  of  pork  and  goat- 
meat  hung  where  people  brushed  them  as  they 
passed.  Next  door  was  a  rice  shop,  with  its 
huge  mock-bottom  baskets  of  this  necessary 
food.  Beyond  that  a  “jewelry  store”  with 
one  pitiful  little  show-case  about  two  feet  long, 
containing  not  more  than  twenty-five  dollars’ 
worth  of  silver  bracelets,  anklets  and  rings, 
all  made  after  the  same  pattern. 

From  the  shop  a  little  farther  along  came  the  metallic  beat 
of  three  hammers  in  a  blacksmith’s  establishment.  Three 
men  at  an  anvil  were  beating  rhythmically  on  the  red-hot  iron 
held  by  the  head  man.  The  day  was  hot,  and  one  of  the  laborers 
fanned  himself  with  the  left  hand  as  he  pounded  with  the  right. 
The  missionary  looked  up  with  quick  amusement,  suddenly 
called  out  of  her  reverie.  It  was  common  enough  to  see  silk- 
gowned  gentlemen  leisurely  wielding  their  painted  fans  as  they 
walked  along  the  street  and  to  find  the  preacher  vigorously 
accentuating  his  sermon  by  the  use  of  one.  But  this  was  a 
sight  she  had  not  seen  before.  She  paused  for  a  friendly  word, 


3  2  N at i  ve  Help  ers 

and  before  she  left  had  given  an  invitation  to  attend  church  the 
next  Sunday. 

Their  hammers  paused  and  the  iron  cooled  while  they  watched 
her  pass  out  of  sight.  Then  they  returned  to  their  task,  re¬ 
marking,  “She  smiled,”  and  “She  can  speak  our  language,”  the 
two  things  that  always  impress  Chinese  the  most. 

A  beggar  passed  her  a  little  farther  on,  using  a  stool  for  a 
crutch  and  calling  loudly  for  alms.  A  moment  later,  she  felt 
a  touch  on  her  sleeve  and  looked  up  to  find  a  wistful  face  turned 
to  hers. 

“Mrs.  Teacher,”  the  little  woman  said,  “invite  you  come  my 
house  and  sit.”  The  invitation  was  a  common  one,  often  mere 
politeness,  but  this  seemed  more  insistent  and  she  followed  her 
new  acquaintance  homeward. 

Not  far  from  her  own  gate  the  missionary  saw  a  group  of 
children  intent  over  a  game.  Gambling!  Poor  little  tots! 
How  little  they  were  to  be  learning  the  passion!  She  paused 
for  a  moment,  expecting  the  customary  greeting,  “Mrs.  Teacher, 
Peace!”  and  it  came,  for  even  these  little  slum  children  knew  the 
Christian  greeting.  But  after  that,  no  more  attention  was 
wasted  on  “the  foreigner,”  not  even  the  usual,  “Have  you  a 
picture  for  us?” 

They  were  utterly  absorbed  in  their  business;  and  real  work 
it  was  to  them.  One  little  face  looked  anxious.  He  was  losing 
every  time.  Others  were  strained  and  eager.  But  one — the 
only  girl  in  the  group — caught  and  held  the  onlooker’s  attention. 
There  was  a  keen,  shrewd,  exultant  look  on  that  face  and  the 
child  was  winning,  hand  over  fist.  The  missionary  made  several 
attempts  to  draw  them  into  conversation;  but  not  even  the 
picture  cards  which  she  produced  stopped  them  for  more  than 
a  moment.  At  length  she  went  on  into  the  compound,  but  the 
memory  of  that  shrewd  little  gambler  stayed  with  her  and  she 
resolved  to  find  the  child  and  learn  more  about  her. 

She  frequently  saw  her  after  that  but  always  absorbed  in  her 
profession.  Patient  watchfulness  at  last  had  its  reward,  however. 
She  finally  found  the  child  alone  one  day,  asked  her  name  and 
went  with  her  to  her  home,  a  poor  hovel,  with  nothing  much  to 
distinguish  it  from  the  other  houses  in  the  neighborhood.  When 


33 


Hu  Chin  Ging 

she  left,  the  missionary  had  the  promise  that  the  little  girl  might 
go  to  the  Ponasang  school.  It  seemed  a  marvel  that  the  parents 
should  consent.  But  it  was  cheaper  board  than  at  home  and 
that  was  a  strong  argument. 

The  day  came  when  little  Autumn  Gold  came  to  school  for  the 
first  time.  All  was  strange  and  very  tame  at  first.  This  was 
a  queer  place  where  they  would  not  let  one  gamble!  But  at 
length  she  began  to  hear  interesting  new  things.  One  did  not 
need  to  fear  the  evil  spirits.  Even  the  idols  were  not  really 
gods.  There  was  just  one  God  and  he  loved  them,  loved  those 
very  girls,  loved  her,  Autumn  Gold,  and  wanted  her  to  be  good. 
It  was  all  very  new  and  interesting  but,  of  course,  it  was  only 
what  the  “foreigners”  thought,  and  they  thought  that  people 
ought  not  to  gamble!  It  was  quite  a  relief  to  get  away  occas¬ 
ionally  from  the  school — ostensibly  to  do  some  shopping — and 
gamble  with  the  men  in  the  shops.  She  always  won,  so  it  was 
profitable  as  well. 

A  couple  of  years  passed,  and  Autumn  Gold  had  grown  in  her 
heart  to  believe  the  new  doctrines  she  had  heard  so  often  and  seen 
lived  in  the  lives  of  her  teachers  and  many  fellow-pupils.  But 
before  she  had  grown  strong  in  her  new  faith,  her  parents  took 
her  out  of  school  and  she  was  married.  That  began  for  her  the 
life  of  a  daughter-in-law  in  a  new  home.  It  was  none  too 
pleasant  a  life,  and  it  was  blighted  before  many  years  by  her 
husband’s  death. 

Then  it  was  that  her  shrewdness  stood  her  in  good  stead. 
She  was  thrown  on  her  own  resources  and  began  to  support 
herself  with  characteristic  confidence.  She  found  a  little 
heathen  school  and  with  her  scanty  education  undertook  to  teach 
it,  eking  out  a  meager  living  for  a  while.  But  that  failed  her 
after  a  time,  and  it  was  then  that  she  turned  her  thoughts  to  the 
Christians.  She  was  soon  afterward  received  into  the  Woman’s 
School  at  Pagoda  Anchorage  and  began  to  prepare  to  teach  in 
in  a  mission  day  school. 

She  developed  splendidly  here,  not  only  in  teaching  ability, 
but  in  Christian  character;  and  by  the  time  her  course  was 
finished  she  seemed  well  fitted  for  her  work.  She  proved  a 
faithful  teacher,  with  a  knack  of  gathering  together  large  schools 


34 


Native  Helpers 

and  inspiring  the  pupils  with  enthusiasm.  So  useful  did  she 
become  that  before  long  she  was  back  as  head  teacher  and  matron 
of  the  woman’s  school  whose  product  she  was;  and  a  year  or  so 
later  she  went  to  Nanking  for  special  training  in  Mandarin  and 
Bible. 

Last  year  Mrs.  Hu,  as  she  is  now  best  known,  became  the 
head  teacher  in  the  new  Training  School  for  Christian  Women, 
a  field  of  incalculable  opportunity.  Those  who  are  to  be  the 
future  Bible  women  and  day-school  teachers  of  the  mission  come 
there  to  become  fit  for  Christian  service.  They  come,  many  of 
them,  with  hazy  ideas,  both  of  methods  and  of  Christian  living. 
But  two  or  three  years  of  constant  training  along  both  lines 
develop  them  wonderfully,  and  Mrs.  Hu,  as  head  teacher,  has  a 
great  opportunity  of  inspiring  and  training  those  who,  in  turn, 
will  inspire  and  train  women  and  children  throughout  Foochow 
and  all  the  out-lying  districts. 

The  old  shrewdness  and  enthusiasm  of  little  Autumn  Gold 
are  still  characteristic  of  Mrs.  Hu,  and  they  are  not  without  their 
element  of  temptation;  but,  turned  to  account  in  the  work  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  are  splendid  qualities.  Mrs. 
Hu  has  become  as  intent  upon  her  Christian  work  as  she  was  on 
her  gambling  the  day  the  missionary  first  saw  her,  and  as  eager 
over  it. 

It  does  one’s  heart  good  to  see  her  radiant  face  as  she  tells 
of  the  work  she  is  doing  in  connection  with  the  Foochow  Hospi¬ 
tal  Sunday  school.  She  is  exultant  over  the  throngs  who  eagerly 
attend  it,  notwithstanding  rainy  weather.  Others  tell  of  the 
splendid  teaching  she  does,  or  her  tactfulness,  tireless  zeal,  and 
personal  touch. 

Imagine  the  sort  of  incident  that  occurs  again  and  again  in  that 
Sunday  school.  The  school  is  assembling,  literally  “the  maimed, 
the  halt  and  the  blind,”  but  not  only  these.  They  have  been 
helped  physically  and  touched  spiritually  and  now  they  go  out 
into  their  homes  and  bring  in  their  friends,  people  of  all  descrip¬ 
tions,  men  and  women  and  children,  rich  and  poor,  old  and  young, 
educated  and  illiterate.  Mrs.  Hu  is  seated  with  her  class  during 
the  opening  exercises.  A  timid  little  woman,  poorly  clad  and 
ignorant,  has  seen  the  crowds  assembling  and  followed  them  in. 


35 


Hu  Chin  Ging 

She  stands  in  the  doorway  gazing  at  the  scene.  At  length 
when  the  organ  stops  playing  there  seems  nothing  more  to 
interest  her  and  she  is  evidently  making  up  her  mind  to  leave 
when  Mrs.  Hu  is  by  her  side  with  a  word  of  friendly  greeting. 

She  draws  the  woman  into  conversation,  invites  her  to  sit 
down  beside  her  in  her  own  class,  and  before  the  visitor  is  aware 
of  it,  she  is  hearing  an  interesting  lesson  on  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ.  At  the  close  she  expresses  her  gratitude  for  the  cordial 
entertainment  she  has  had  and  politely  invites  Mrs.  Hu  to  her 
home.  There  is  another  meeting  for  that  busy  lady  after 
Sunday  school,  but  she  asks  to  be  excused  from  it  and  ac¬ 
companies  the  timid  newcomer  to  her  home,  making  friends  and 
winning  her  confidence  as  they  go,  till  when  she  leaves  the 
woman  she  has  her  promise  to  come  again  next  Sunday.  If 
she  should  fail  she  would  doubtless  have  another  call  from  Mrs. 
Hu,  and  the  calls  would  continue  till  the  woman  became  a 
regular  attendant. 

This  Chinese  teacher  is  very  skilful  and  she  holds  her  classes 
well.  She  seems  always  to  know  the  most  tactful  way  to  present 
a  lesson  and  how  to  adapt  it  to  her  hearers.  Who  can  foretell 
what  a  golden  harvest  our  Mrs.  Autumn  Gold,  as  she  develops 
more  and  more  in  her  own  life,  will  help  to  bring  in  through  the 
work  that  God  has  given  her  to  do  in  Foochow? 


ANNA  FELICIAN  OF  TURKEY 

A  Teacher  of  Girls  for  Fifty  Years 


By  Rev.  Charles  C.  Tracy,  D.D. 


'TTjfF  memory  were  a  picture  gallery  with  the  pleasant  scenes, 
'jl  the  cherished  groups,  the  loved  faces  that  fill  the  past 
portrayed  upon  its  walls,  Anna  Felician  would  be  there 
holding  a  modest,  but  not  obscure  place. 

How  vivid  are  the  scenes  and  the  persons  which  have  wholly 
appropriated  to  their  own  sacredness  that  twenty-fifth  day  of 
October,  1867,  when  I  first  saw  her! 

A  weary  ride  of  three  days  over  camel  trails,  on  bony  horses, 
up  steeps  and  down  gullies,  with  a  spice  of  robber  alarms,  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  In  half  an  hour  we  would  be  on  yonder 
ridge  overlooking  the  great  plain  of  Marsovan.  On  the  way 
along  the  Tersakan  (“the-river-that-flows-the-contrary-way”) 
came  the  final  thrill — a  mounted  band  galloping  down  upon  us! 
The  shock  was  only  momentary.  My  young  wife,  with  her 
quicker  discernment,  exclaimed,  “They  are  missionaries!”  In 
two  or  three  minutes  we  were  one  group,  melted  together  in  a 
lasting  fellowship  as  if  by  some  all-powerful  current  of  electric 
influence. 

The  happy  procession  to  the  town  two  hours  away  followed, 
with  greetings  in  an  unknowm  tongue,  the  whole-souled  recep¬ 
tion  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leonard,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  F.  Smith,  our 
much  honored  former  friend  Miss  A.  E.  Fritcher  from  the 
faculty  of  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary,  and  with  them  came 
pleasing,  pretty,  bright  and  witty  Anna  Felician,  a  girl  of 
eighteen,  daughter  of  an  early  much-persecuted,  much-im¬ 
prisoned  evangelical  preacher  at  Trebizond.  She  was  born  in 
that  city  on  the  Black  Sea  and  had  been  sent  to  school  in  Con¬ 
stantinople  when  about  twelve  years  old.  She  could  tell  in 


3§ 


Native  Helpers 


imperfect  English  endless  stories  about  Father  Goodell,  what 
odd,  captivating  talks  he  gave  the  children  in  the  mission 
school;  how  he  came  one  day  with  pockets  all  stuffed  out  with 
something;  how  the  little  girls  all  assaulted  him,  dived  into 
his  pockets  and  hauled  out  numerous  copies  of  the  new  hymn 
books  just  out  of  the  press  which  were  to  be  used  in  the  school 
and  which  the  good  missionary  father  introduced  in  this  grand- 
fatherly  way. 

She  was  brought  to  Marsovan  by  Mrs.  Leonard  to  assist  in 
a  little  day  school  which  later  developed  into  the  Anatolia 
Girls’  School  of  today,  with  which  Miss  Felician  has  been  con¬ 
nected  through  all  the  years,  as  teacher  and  house-mother  as 
well  as  being  a  valued  fellow-laborer  with  the  missionaries  at 
this  station.  It  was  through  Mrs.  Leonard  that  she  received 
the  privilege  of  visiting  America  and  attending  Mt.  Holyoke 
Seminary  as  a  special  pupil  in  the  winter  of  1881-82.  She  has 

always  looked  back  upon  that 
experience  as  one  of  the  golden 
times  of  her  life. 

Of  those  who  composed  that 
group  at  Marsovan  in  1867 
there  remain  on  this  side  of 
the  great  divide,  Anna  Felician, 
Mrs.  Tracy  and  myself;  of 
those  then  connected  with  the 
Turkish  Missions — how  few, 
native  or  foreign,  are  left! 
Among  the  most  useful,  the 
most  honored,  is  Anna  Felician. 
She  is  as  faulty  as  the  rest  of 
us  and  not  more  so.  She  has 
the  virtues  of  the  best  of  us, 
and  maybe  more.  We  who 
have  known  her  longest  hold 
her  name  and  work  in  the 
highest  regard. 

Miss  anna  felician  What  a  long  story  of  labor 

A  Portrait  taken  in  her  prime  and  patience  such  a  life  pre- 


Anna  Felician 


39 


sents!  How  weatherworn  now  is  the  mortal  frame,  how  toil- 
worn  the  spirit,  yet  patient  and  persevering  to  the  end!  Anna 
Felician  was  always  a  link  between  us  and  the  people.  She 
understood  us  better  than  they  did;  she  understood  them  better 
than  we  did— yes,  she  was  a  golden  link.  She  often  criticised 
us  to  our  faces,  and  criticised  the  people  to  their  faces;  herein 
she  greatly  differed  from  those  who  criticised  them  in  our 
presence,  and  us  in  theirs.  We  have  often  been  thankful  after¬ 
ward  if  not  perhaps,  at  the  time,  for  the  views  she  expressed 
concerning  things  which  we  had  said  or  done,  or  policies  which 
we  had  pursued. 

In  later  years  we  have  always  spoken  of  this  friend  as  “Miss 
Anna.”  Some  of  her  characteristics  have  appeared  in  what  has 
already  been  said;  others  should  be  mentioned  in  order  to  any 
due  appreciation  of  this  valuable  fellow-laborer.  Her  social 
character  is  remarkable.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  any  one  who 
has  come  into  friendly  relations  with,  and  gained  considerable 
influence  over  more  kinds  of  people  than  Miss  Anna.  She  is 
always  far  and  away  better  acquainted  with  the  conditions, 
dispositions,  feelings  of  the  people  in  the  town  and  neighboring 
places — Mohammedan,  Gregorian,  Greek,  Protestant — than 
any  of  us.  She  is  a  fine  visitor,  conversationalist,  adviser.  She 
always  enjoys  associating  with  people,  listening  to  their  stories, 
sympathizing  with  their  joys  and  their  woes. 

Her  sitting-room  has  been,  these  many  years,  a  sort  of  office 
without  the  name.  There,  with  unlimited— I  will  not  say 
patience,  for  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to  her  to  be  impatient 
with  even  the  most  prolix  callers — but  unlimited  good  will, 
she  listens  to  whatever  people  have  to  say.  She  has  always 
spent  much  of  her  time  in  calling  upon  the  people  in  their  homes, 
which  has  greatly  increased  her  influence.  The  consequence 
of  such  sustained  friendly  association  has  been  that  a  very  large 
number  of  persons  have  reposed  confidence  in  her  and  come  to 
her  for  counsel  in  all  sorts  of  matters.  When  officers  of  various 
rank  visited  the  institutions,  Miss  Anna  was  the  one  most  often 
chosen  to  meet  and  talk  with  them.  She  was  not  afraid  to  utter 
her  mind  even  to  a  pasha,  in  her  own  pleasant,  jovial,  and  often 


40  N at i  ve  Help  ers 

witty  manner,  and  the  gentlemen,  sometimes  greatly  amused, 
were  never  offended. 

This  kind  of  a  person  is  a  blessing.  Such  a  disposition  dis¬ 
perses  many  a  cloud  before  the  storm  has  time  to  gather. 
Though  so  many  of  us  have  a  routine  of  duties  and  are  obliged 
to  run  on  schedule,  cutting  sociability  short,  and  curtailing 
acquaintance  with  the  inner  lives  of  others,  yet  how  much  we 
lose  by  it! 

Anna  Felician  has  been  a  true  and  loyal  friend.  We  have 
tested  this  friendship  for  almost  half  a  century,  in  all  sorts  of 
circumstances.  There  is  a  metal  that  can  be  beaten  into  any 
imaginable  shape,  but  it  is  gold  still.  One  may  find  true 
friends  in  any  race  or  nation  on  earth.  Once  found  and  tested, 
the  desire  arises  in  the  soul  to  retain  this  friendship  as  the  best 
treasure  in  an  imperfect,  and  see  its  development  in  a  perfect 
world. 

Miss  Anna  has  manifested  much  wisdom  in  the  management 
of  affairs  committed  to  her.  She  has  been  a  remarkable  econo¬ 
mist.  This  has  greatly  helped  in  days  when  the  large  boarding 
school  for  girls  at  Marsovan  was  in  straits.  No  morsel  of 
food,  no  crust  of  bread  was  thrown  away  under  her  manage¬ 
ment,  but  the  most  was  made  of  provisions  and  materials  of  all 
sorts.  This  genius  for  economy  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated; 
it  is  quite  too  often  lacking  where  the  use  of  benevolent  funds  is 
involved.  Yet  this  same  economist,  so  conscientious  in  the 
use  of  school  funds,  was  far  more  generous  and  confiding  than 
successful  in  the  management  of  her  own  humble  financial 
interests.  Careful  as  she  has  ever  been  in  the  matters  of  per¬ 
sonal  expense,  others  rather  than  herself  have  gained  the  benefit 
of  her  frugality  and  small  is  the  residue  of  savings  her  account 
can  show  after  half  a  century  of  faithful  and  self-denying  toil. 

This  devoted  friend  is  gifted  with  both  tact  and  taste.  On 
birthdays  and  other  festal  occasions  she  comes  in  smiling  with 
a  bunch  of  flowers  according  to  the  season — Easter  lilies,  violets, 
roses — for  she  loves  and  cultivates  flowers.  Or  she  brings  a 
plate  of  choice  fruit  which  she  has  cared  for  and  watched  over, 
grown  in  the  grounds  of  the  Girls’  School. 

Over  and  above  all  these  outward  manifestations,  these 


Anna  Felician 


4i 


aptitudes  for  social  life,  Anna  Felician  is  a  Christian  in  heart  and 
soul,  not  in  creed  merely.  That  creed  of  hers — no  uncertain 
thing — may  be  out  of  tune  with  much  fashionable  criticism  of 
the  day,  but  it  harmonizes  well  with  Christian  life  and  efficient 
influence. 

As  half  a  century  of  associations  and  relationships,  co-working 
and  care  draws  to  a  close,  very,  very  few  are  the  links  of  in¬ 
dividual  connection  remaining  unbroken.  It  is  more  than  a 
transient  emotion  that  moves  our  souls  as  we  cast  a  glance  on 
the  aging  faces  and  enfeebled  forms  of  the  all-but-vanished 
remnant  of  our  fellow-toilers.  We  try  to  lay  hold  heartily  of  the 
present,  to  join  in  with  the  young  and  the  strong,  to  kindle  with 
the  new  enthusiasm,  for  the  power  on  which  we  rely  is  the 
“power  of  endless  life,”  yet  we  cling  with  special  tenacity  of 
regard  to  those  who,  like  a  few  remaining  old  missionaries, 
here  and  there  an  aged  pastor  or  teacher,  like  Anna  Felician 
of  Marsovan,  have  been  our  true  and  faithful  friends  for  half  a 
hundred  years. 


FATIMA  HANUM  OF  BULGARIA 

A  Bible  Reader  in  Turkish  Harems 


By  Ursula  Clarke  Marsh 


s 


ATIMA  HANUM  and  her  husband,  Akhmet  Agha, 
were  natives  of  Caesarea  in  Asia  Minor.  Early  in 
their  married  life  they  came  under  the  influence  of  the 
Gospel,  renounced  Islam,  and  were  known  as  Christians.  This, 
of  course,  aroused  the  anger  of  their  relatives.  Both  Fatima  and 
her  husband  were  from  influential  families,  and  they  left  no 
means  untried  to  bring  them  back  to  the  true  faith.  Finding 
their  persuasions  of  no  avail,  they  finally  threatened  them  with 
imprisonment,  and  if  they  continued  obdurate,  with  death. 
Their  friends,  the  American  missionaries,  fearing  these  threats 
would  really  be  executed,  got  them  off  by  night  in  disguise, 
their  two  little  girls  in  baskets  slung  on  a  mule’s  back,  all  in  the 
care  of  a  trusty  Armenian  muleteer.  Reaching  Constantinople, 
they  were  protected  for  a  time  by  the  British  Ambassador;  but 
Akhmet  Agha’s  light  could  not  be  hid.  He  was  constantly  found 
talking  Christianity  in  coffee  houses  and  bazaars,  was  arrested 
and  sent  into  exile  to  Rodosto. 

Left  alone  with  her  little  girls,  Fatima  Hanum  was  soon  taken 
by  a  distant  relative  into  his  harem.  At  first  she  was  very 
closely  watched,  and  never  allowed  to  leave  the  house,  but  as 
time  passed  and  she  became  apparently  contented  and  happy — 
happy  she  was,  for  she  was  trusting  her  Lord  to  show  her  a  way 
of  escape — she  was  given  more  liberty,  was  permitted  to  go  to 
the  bazaars  and  to  walk  with  her  children. 

Late  one  summer  afternoon,  she  started  with  the  children 
for  the  seashore,  accompanied  by  only  one  servant.  At  the 
head  of  a  narrow,  crooked  street  leading  to  the  quay,  she  per¬ 
suaded  the  servant  to  stop  in  a  shop  to  buy  some  sweets.  Then 


44 


Native  Helpers 

she  flew  to  the  water’s  edge,  hailed  a  boatman  and  promising 
him  a  large  sum,  was  out  of  reach  when  the  servant  appeared. 
It  was  a  long  pull  up  the  Bosphorus  to  Bebek,  where  she  knew 
American  missionaries  lived,  though  she  did  not  know  how  to 
find  them.  But  she  prayed  all  the  way  and  as  they  reached 
the  boat  landing  she  saw,  to  her  great  joy,  standing  as  if  waiting 
for  her  one  of  the  missionaries.  “I  knew  God  had  sent  him,” 
she  used  to  say  in  telling  her  story. 

Akhmet  Agha,  after  spending  some  years  in  exile  in  different 
cities,  in  every  one  of  which  he  preached  Christ,  was  finally 
restored  to  his  family  and  died  peacefully,  triumphantly  in  his 
own  home,  in  the  year  1873. 

One  of  their  daughters  was  enticed  away  and  married  to  a 
Moslem;  the  other  daughter  married  an  Armenian  and  with 
them  Fatima  Hanum  made  her  home.  Longing  to  tell  her 
Turkish  sisters  of  the  Christ  so  precious  to  her,  she  found  access 
to  harems  by  means  of  her  basket  of  laces,  thread,  needles,  etc.; 
but  while  she  sold  such  things,  she  carried  also  her  Turkish 
Bible  and,  as  she  found  opportunity,  read  from  it,  giving  away 
also  Scripture  portions  and  tracts.  We  believe  that  in  this  way 
many  hearts  were  reached. 

During  the  massacre  of  Armenians  in  1896,  Fatima  Hanum’s 
son-in-law  was  obliged  to  flee  with  his  family  to  Philippopolis, 
Bulgaria,  and  it  was  there  that  I  met  her.  Tall  and  dignified, 
intent  on  the  Master’s  business,  with  a  love  broad  enough  to 
embrace  all  nationalities,  while  longing  especially  for  the  con¬ 
version  of  her  Turkish  sisters,  she  was  just  the  woman  we  had 
long  wished  for  to  work  among  Mohammedans  and,  despite  her 
more  than  seventy  years,  she  gladly  took  up  the  work  of  a  Bible 
woman. 

Turkish  women  living  in  free  Bulgaria  are  much  more  acces¬ 
sible  than  their  sisters  in  Turkey  and  they  welcomed  this  new¬ 
comer  from  Stamboul.  It  is  not  so  uncommon  to  find  women 
who  can  read,  though  they  have  few  books  beside  the  Koran, 
and  they  were  glad  to  buy  the  Psalms,  Proverbs  and  single 
Gospels,  sometimes  even  a  whole  Testament  or  Bible,  and  they 
were  always  ready  to  listen  to  Fatima’s  spirited  reading,  so 


Fatima  Hanum 


45 

different  from  the  singsong,  spiritless  rendering  of  the  Koran  to 
which  they  were  accustomed. 

During  the  great  Turkish  feast  of  Bairam,  we  were  invited 
to  visit  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  Turk.  After  some  time  spent  in 
exchange  of  salutations  with  a  roomful  of  guests,  our  hostess 
noticed  the  Testament  Fatima  Hanum  always  carried  in  her 
hand  and  asked  to  see  it.  It  fell  open  at  the  fifteenth  of  Luke 
and  she  began  to  read  slowly. 

Just  then  the  muezzin  called  to  afternoon  prayer.  Reluctantly 
the  lady  returned  the  book,  saying,  “Excuse  me,  I  must  say  my 
prayers  but 
the  others  and 
come  back.” 
ner of  the  great 
room  in  which 
ed,  she  took  off 
satin  robe  and 
and  performed 
but  with  her 
stantly  given 
Soon  she 
and  hastened 
saying,  “Now 
again.”  This 
um  did,  ex- 
mirably  while 
listened  in- 
had  just  fin- 

ter  when  the  fourteen-year-old  daughter  of  the  house  came  in 
and  her  mother  begged  for  still  another  reading  of  the  story  “for 
Halide.”  It  was  quite  dark,  that  winter  afternoon,  when  at  last 
they  would  let  us  go.  Then  Halide  begged  so  hard  to  keep  the 
book  that,  especially  dear  as  it  was  to  Fatima  Hanum,  she  left  it 
with  her. 

Eight  years  Fatima  Hanum  went  up  and  down  the  steep 
streets  of  Philippopolis,  nursing  the  sick,  comforting  the  sorrow¬ 
ful,  helping  to  heal  family  troubles,  taking  with  her  everywhere 
her  Bible.  Both  she  and  her  book  were  always  treated  respect- 


FATIMA  HANUM 


you  read  to 
I  will  soon 
Going  toacor- 
reception 
we  were  seat- 
her  furlined, 
all  her  jewels 
her  devotions, 
attention  con- 
to  our  reading, 
jumped  up 
back  to  us, 
read  it  all  over 
Fatima  Han- 
plaining  it  ad- 
all  the  guests 
tently.  She 
ished  the  chap- 


46  Native  Helpers 

fully,  even  in  the  coffee  shops,  which  she  often  entered  to  offer 
books  for  sale.  She  was  so  familiar  with  the  Koran,  as  well  as 
with  the  Bible  that  she  could  meet  on  their  own  ground  those 
who  attempted  to  argue  her  down. 

Every  Friday  when  the  weather  would  permit,  Fatima 
Hanum’s  neighbors  and  often  women  from  the  other  side  of  the 
town  would  send  word  to  her:  “Come  with  us  to  Bunardjik 
(a  hillside  where  Turkish  women  like  to  spend  their  weekly 
holiday)  and  bring  the  Book  with  you.  Don’t  forget  the  Book.” 
Many  a  time  I’ve  seen  the  dear  old  lady,  sitting  under  the  trees, 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  women,  one  or  two  children  in  her  lap, 
and  men  coming  as  near  as  they  dared  to  listen  to  her. 

The  winter  before  Fatima  Hanum’s  death,  she  spent  much  time 
teaching  a  Moslem  girl  to  read.  After  finishing  the  primer, 
they  read  from  the  Gospels  and  the  girl’s  heart  was  deeply 
moved  by  the  life  and  words  of  the  Saviour.  She  fell  ill  and 
after  a  few  days  died,  but  was  quiet  and  happy  to  the  last. 
“Mother,”  she  said,  “we  have  lived  in  darkness  but  there  is 
a  light,  and  I  see  it.  Listen  to  Fatima  Hanum.  She  will  show 
it  to  you.” 

Every  week  Fatima  Hanum  used  to  come  to  me  to  tell  of 
new  doors  opened,  both  among  Turks  and  Armenians,  for  she 
was  beloved  by  Christians  as  well  as  Moslems,  and  together  we 
would  ask  God’s  blessing  on  her  efforts. 

She  loved  to  meet  with  the  Bulgarian  Protestant  women  in 
their  weekly  meetings  and,  though  they  had  no  common  language, 
there  was  true  heart  sympathy  between  them  and  her  glowing 
face  and  earnest  prayers  were  an  inspiration  to  all. 

Gradually,  as  Fatima  Hanum’s  strength  failed,  she  could  no 
longer  visit  the  homes  where  she  had  proved  herself  a  friend; 
but  her  friends  came  to  her  and  even  in  the  last  days,  when  too 
feeble  to  talk  much,  she  would  give  them  some  verse  from  her 
precious  Bible  and  bid  them  meet  her  in  Heaven. 

Going  into  her  room  a  few  hours  before  her  death,  she  greeted 
me  with  a  smile,  and  said,  “Sing  to  me  ‘I’m  a  pilgrim  and  I’m 
a  stranger,  I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  anight.’”  She  wanted 
all  three  verses;  then,  still  holding  my  hand,  she  said,  “Good 
night,  I  shall  sleep  now.”  Through  the  night  she  murmured 


Fatima  Hanum 


47 


now  and  then,  “Coming,  Lord  Jesus/’  but  took  no  notice  of  me, 
and  at  early  dawn  she  entered  the  presence  of  the  Lord  she  loved. 

Many  Turkish  women  learning  of  the  death  of  their  friend, 
came  to  kiss  her  hand  and  to  lament  for  her.  To  this  day,  after 
a  lapse  of  ten  years,  I  often  meet  some  of  them  who  say,  “Ah, 
what  a  good  woman  she  was.  If  she  were  only  here  now  to  tell 
us  how  to  live!” 


.> 


NOMDEHE,  AN  AFRICAN  PRINCESS 

Who  Valued  an  Education  more  than  Royalty 


By  Katharine  S.  Hazeltine 


M 


OMDEHE  dropped  the  bundle  of  dry  brush  she  had 
brought  from  the  forest  at  the  doorway  of  the  grass 
hut  she  called  home,  straightened  up,  threw  back  the 
thick  locks  of  hair  mixed  with  red  clay  and  grease  that  hung 
over  her  forehead,  and  looked  about.  There,  near  one  of  the 
five  huts  within  the  kraal,  sat  her  father,  Chief  Ndhlokolo,  with 
his  counsellors  about  him  listening  to  a  dispute.  Shrewd  and 
keen  he  is,  she  thought;  he  will  make  a  good  bargain.  About 
her,  grazed  her  father’s  cattle  and  flocks  of  goats.  Little 
brown  boys  shouted  out  to  each  other  tales  of  the  buck  they 
had  almost  speared,  while  others  exhibited  long  strings  of  locusts 
they  had  caught  in  the  grass  and  had  brought  home  to  roast. 

A  baby’s  wailing  cry  from  within  the  grass  hut  roused  Nom- 
dehe.  Gracefully  she  dropped  to  her  knees  and  crawled  through 
the  low  doorway.  The  new-born  calf  lifted  its  head  with  a 
gentle  little  “moo”  as  she  entered.  A  cross  old  hen  hatching 
out  her  eggs  on  the  opposite  side  scolded  and  puffed  herself  up 
in  anger.  Two  lean  dogs  slunk  away  from  the  fire  in  the  center 
of  the  hut  as  she  came  toward  it  and  made  her  way  to  a  grass 
mat  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  where  lay  the  little  wailing 
baby.  She  picked  him  up  in  her  arms. 

The  woman  grinding  corn  into  meal  between  two  heavy  stones 
looked  up  as  the  cries  ceased.  “Ah!  Nomdehe!  All  afternoon 
has  he  cried.  I  fear  the  spirits  are  hungry  and  are  making  him 
sick  to  tell  us  they  need  food.” 

She  went  on  with  her  work,  the  flashes  of  light  from  the  fire 
reflected  on  her  shining  black  body  and  arms  as  she  knelt  there 
by  it  making  ready  the  evening  meal. 


5  o  N at i  ve  Help  ers 

Under  Nomdehe’s  care  the  baby  soon  gurgled  and  crowed  as 
seven  months’  old  babies  will.  Suddenly  Nomdehe’s  heart 
seemed  to  skip  a  beat.  Anxiously  she  put  her  finger  into  his 
mouth  and  felt  a  little  swollen  place  on  his  upper  gum.  If  it 
should  be  a  tooth!  He  would  have  to  die  else  harm  would  come 
to  the  chief,  their  father. 

“Marne!”  she  gasped.  Her  mother  turned,  her  gaze  follow¬ 
ing  Nomdehe’s  pointed  finger.  The  two  exchanged  a  long, 
frightened  look.  With  a  quick  intake  of  breath,  “It  is  nothing!” 
the  older  woman  said,  as  if  to  convince  herself.  Then  as  the 
doorway  darkened  she  lifted  her  finger  warningly.  “Tula!” 
(hush)  she  whispered  as  Chief  Ndhlokolo  entered. 

After  they  had  finished  their  meal  and  her  father  had  gone 
again,  Nomdehe  and  her  mother  ate  what  was  left  and  the  little 
family  made  merry  as  they  sat  about  the  fire  recounting  the 
day’s  adventures. 

Suddenly  “tap,  tap,  tap”  was  sounded  softly.  The  mother 
and  Nomdehe  grew  rigid  with  fear.  Their  anxiety  held  the 
children  quiet,  yet  they  heard  only  the  fall  of  embers  in  the  fire 
and  the  scuttling  of  cockroaches  in  the  roof  overhead.  At 
last,  after  a  long  time  when  the  tapping  sounded  no  more,  the 
mother  relaxed.  The  dreaded  umkovu ,  the  little  dwarfs  whom 
the  abataketi  (the  witch  doctors)  make  out  of  dead  people,  had 
not  brought  evil  to  their  kraal  this  night.  They  had  done  well 
to  keep  still. 

The  frightened  children,  rolling  themselves  up  in  dirty  blankets 
lay  down  on  their  mats  on  the  floor  and  slept,  but  Nomdehe  lay 
wide  awake,  conscious  of  each  noise  until  she  saw  the  blue  light 
of  early  morning  through  the  low  doorway. 

Hungry  for  something,  she  knew  not  what,  Nomdehe  rose 
from  her  mat  and,  taking  her  hoe,  left  the  enclosure  for  the 
garden  and  the  cornfield.  All  day  hoeing,  planting,  harvesting, 
carrying  water  from  the  river,  huge  bundles  of  brush  for  the 
fire,  grinding  corn  into  meal,  she  worked,  and  not  until  the 
whip-poor-wills  began  to  call  and  the  shadows  deepened  on  the 
hills,  did  she  turn  wearily  toward  home. 

There  she  found  a  great  crowd  of  folk  gathered  in  the  center 
of  the  kraal  listening  to  a  man.  Nomdehe  stood  at  the  edge 


Nomdehe 


5 1 


of  the  crowd.  For  awhile  she  hardly  heard  the  words  of  the 
stranger.  Ah!  what  was  that  he  said?  There  was  one  Jesus 
who  loved  little  children.  That  was  not  like  the  umkovu.  or 
Tikoloshe — Tikoloshe,  who  dwelt  in  the  black  pools,  always 
ready  to  reach  out  and  drag  little  children  below  the  dark 
waters.  Intent  now,  she  listened  to  the  beautiful  story  Pastor 


Jwili  told  about 
one  feared,  a 
them  all.  That 
speaker  was 
was  quiet, 
awake  again, 
Jesus  who  loved 
the  morning  she 
the  preacher 
tell  her  more, 
from  that  time 
slipped  away 
and  went  to 
the  bush  where 
of  the  wonder- 
began  herself  to 
book  which  told 
One  dreadful 
Chief  Ndhlo- 
what  Nomdehe 
was  worth  one 
of  cattle  to  him. 
allow  her  value 
by  such  fool- 


NOMDEHE 


a  God  whom  no 
God  who  loved 
night  after  the 
gone  and  all 
Nomdehe  lay 
thinking  of  this 
children.  In 
would  find  out 
and  ask  him  to 
Day  after  day, 
on,  Nomdehe 
from  the  kraal 
Pastor  Jwili  in 
she  heard  more 
ful  story  and 
learn  to  read  a 
of  Jesus, 
day,  however, 
kolo  discovered 
was  doing.  She 
hundred  head 
He  could  not 
to  be  lessened 
ishness  as  that 


nonsense  of  Pastor  Jwili’s.  He  would  have  to  beat  her  well. 
Poor  Nomdehe!  She  lay  in  her  hut,  miserable,  the  great  welts 
on  her  back  and  arms  aching  not  more  than  her  heart 
because  she  had  been  forbidden  to  go  again  to  Pastor  Jwili’s 
school. 

For  some  time  she  endured  the  old  life.  She  was  conscious, 
however,  as  she  swung  the  hoe,  or  carried  brush  from  the  forest, 
of  longing  for  something  else,  something  more.  The  life  they 


5  2  Nati ve  Help  ers 

had  talked  about  at  Pastor  Jwili’s  had  satisfied  this  hunger;  and 
they  had  spoken  of  a  place  where  girls  could  stay  and  learn  how 
to  live  this  new  kind  of  life.  She  resolved  to  wait  no  longer. 
She  would  go  to  the  boarding  school  at  Inanda  and  implore 
the  kind  women  there  to  take  her. 

That  evening  she  lay  tense.  It  seemed  as  if  her  mother  and 
brothers  would  never  sleep,  as  if  all  the  sounds  in  the  kraal 
would  never  cease,  but  finally  she  crept  out  of  the  hut  and  was 
soon  out  and  away. 

Her  heart  beat  with  terror.  To  walk  alone  through  the  bush 
in  the  dark  which  all  her  life  long  she  had  been  taught  to  fear — - 
Tikoloshe,  umkovuy  the  izinsweloboyay  cruel  people  who  roam 
the  bush  at  night  seeking  whom  they  can  find  to  murder.  Yet 
the  thought  of  the  loving  Jesus,  of  whom  she  had  heard  Pastor 
Jwili  tell,  drove  away  her  fear.  She  held  her  breath  to  listen 
to  the  crackling  of  a  twig  in  the  brush,  her  heart  throbbed  a 
little  faster,  yet  she  walked  out  into  the  night. 

Before  morning  the  forest  lay  behind  her  and  running  quickly 
over  the  hills  and  wading  through  rivers,  she  soon  reached  the 
school.  Nomdehe  did  not  have  long  to  wonder  at  the  strange¬ 
ness  of  this  scene:  the  high  buildings,  the  glistening  places  in 
the  white  walls  through  which  one  could  see,  the  doorways  where 
girls  moved  in  and  out,  without  crawling  on  hands  and  knees. 
Soon  friendly  girls  in  pink  dresses  smiled  at  her  and  asked  her 
story.  They  knew  well  how  she  felt  and  took  her  to  kind 
“Mother  Edwards,”  the  principal,  who  heard  it  all  and  said  she 
might  have  refuge  there.  How  her  smiling  eyes  warmed 
Nomdehe’s  heart!  Like  sunlight  in  the  quiet  pools,  she  thought. 

For  two  days  Nomdehe  lived  as  she  had  never  lived  before. 
In  the  studies  of  the  morning,  in  the  work  of  the  garden  or 
fetching  wood  and  water  of  the  afternoon,  in  the  friendliness 
of  the  other  girls,  Nomdehe’s  old  longing  was  satisfied. 

On  the  third  day  they  called  her,  saying  that  her  mother  had 
come  to  take  her  home.  Nomdehe  seemed  frozen  with  terror. 
Take  her  back  to  the  kraal,  away  from  this  happy  place?  Mrs. 
Edwards  replied  to  her  unspoken  question.  “You  do  not  have 
to  go  away  unless  you  wish.  Your  mother  cannot  force  you  to 

\yy 

go! 


Nomdehe 


53 


She  went  out  to  the  porch  of  the  house.  There  stood  her 
mother  wrapped  in  a  filthy  blanket.  “I  cannot  go  back  with 
you,  mame,”  said  Nomdehe  gently. 

Her  mother  alternately  threw  herself  flat  on  the  ground  on 
her  stomach  and  raised  herself  by  her  hands  and  feet,  wailing 
at  the  top  of  her  voice.  Screaming  and  fairly  howling  with  rage, 
she  threatened  to  burn  down  the  house  if  Nomdehe  were  not 
given  to  her. 

Nomdehe,  firm  and  quiet,  listened.  When  she  could  bear  to 
hear  her  mother  no  longer — she  knew  she  could  not  go  back  to 
that  life  of  fear  and  hardship — she  slipped  away  and  hid  herself 
in  the  cornfields  behind  the  school  until  the  shadows  lengthened. 
Then  one  of  the  teachers  concealed  her  for  the  night  and  the 
next  day,  until  her  mother,  still  wailing,  had  gone  back  to  the 
kraal. 

In  a  few  days  there  appeared  several  headmen  of  the  tribe 
sent  by  the  chief  to  bring  her  back.  How  fierce  they  looked 
in  their  aprons  of  monkeys’  tails  and  necklaces  of  tigers’  claws! 
They  brandished  their  knob  kerries  till  their  bead  bracelets 
rattled.  Their  spears  flashed  in  the  sun  as  they  threatened  and 
pleaded: 

“Thou  art  a  princess,  Nomdehe,  worth  one  hundred  head  of 
cattle.  Thou  wilt  be  a  chief  wife.” 

Nomdehe  shook  her  head.  To  exchange  this  life  for  that! 
She  shuddered. 

“Thou  wilt  bring  disgrace  upon  thy  tribe  and  thy  great  name.” 

Nomdehe  pointed  to  the  rose  bush  in  full  bloom  by  her  side. 

“Do  you  see  those  flowers  there?”  she  said.  “They  are  very 
beautiful  today.  Let  the  sun  shine  on  them  a  few  days  and  how 
will  they  look  then?  This  royalty  of  which  you  talk  to  me  is 
like  that.  I  don’t  care  about  it.  It  is  just  nothing /” 

“But  think  of  your  poor  father.  Who  will  bring  water  for 
him  to  make  his  beer?” 

Nomdehe  only  smiled  at  this,  remembering  the  many  other 
daughters  on  whom  he  might  call,  remembering  too,  that  they 
were  not  worth  so  many  cattle  as  she. 

The  headmen  found  threats  and  persuasions  alike  of  no  avail. 
They  returned  without  her. 


54  Native  Helpers 

A  few  weeks  later  came  a  messenger.  “Nomdehe,  your  mother 
is  ill,  dying.  She  cries  to  see  you.” 

What  should  she  do?  Was  this  truth  or  a  lie?  Fortunately 
Preacher  Jwili  gave  a  timely  warning.  It  was  a  hoax.  The  girl 
refused  to  go. 

When  school  closed  at  the  end  of  the  term  Nomdehe  returned 
to  her  home.  What  a  welcome  she  had!  When  her  father 
learned  that  she  had  come,  he  tore  the  clothes  from  her  back 
and  beat  her.  She  lay  still  in  the  hut  till  she  could  make  her 
escape  to  the  bush.  Here  in  hiding,  covered  by  her  shawl,  she 
waited  through  the  night  and  in  the  morning  made  her  way 
back  to  Inanda. 

After  a  year  at  the  school,  she  ventured  home  again.  Poor 
Nomdehe!  For  over  six  months  she  was  kept  a  prisoner, 
closely  guarded.  She  was  not  allowed  to  speak  to  passing 
Christians.  Her  Testament  she  had  to  read  by  stealth  in  the 
bush.  Yet,  as  she  went  about  her  tasks,  she  tried  to  show  in 
her  care  for  others  what  the  love  of  Jesus  was. 

One  day  when  all  the  family  had  gone  to  a  beer-drink,  came 
her  opportunity.  She  took  out  her  neat  clothes,  kept  carefully 
all  this  time,  and  gladly  putting  them  on  again,  escaped  to 
the  refuge  at  Inanda.  How  she  rejoiced  to  be  there!  How 
gladly  they  received  her ! 

Several  weeks  went  by.  Then  came  the  alarming  report  that 
Chief  Ndhlokolo,  the  father,  had  gone  to  the  English  magistrate 
and  was  soon  coming  to  take  away  not  only  Nomdehe  but  her 
other  sisters  who  had  come  to  the  school.  Their  hearts  were 
sad  at  this  threatened  danger.  Fervently  they  prayed  that 
they  might  stay. 

When  their  father  appeared  in  state  with  his  retinue,  instead 
of  angrily  demanding  his  daughters,  he  quietly  accepted  Mrs. 
Edwards’s  invitation  to  enter  and  be  seated.  His  daughters 
were  summoned  and  sat  meekly  on  the  floor  before  him  anxiously 
awaiting  his  words  in  silence.  “Come,  let  us  go,”  he  finally 
said.  Then  Nomdehe  found  courage  to  plead  earnestly  that 
they  might  remain  in  school  till  the  end  of  the  term.  “Then, 
father,  we  will  go  home  willingly.”  To  their  joy  he  went  quietly 
away,  leaving  them  at  the  school. 


Nomdehe 


55 

Nomdehe  continued  to  attend  school  at  Inanda  Seminary  and 
finally  became  a  trusted  teacher  of  others  who,  like  herself 
found  refuge  here  from  the  life  of  the  kraal.  One  of  her  sisters 
was  also  a  teacher  at  Inanda  and  at  out-station  schools,  becom¬ 
ing  afterwards  the  wife  of  a  Christian  preacher.  What  joy 
it  was  to  Nomdehe  to  see  her  mother  a  member  of  the  Inquirers’ 
Class  when  her  old  friend,  Preacher  Jwili,  was  ordained  at  the 
little  church  near  her  old  home!  What  joy  to  have  her  father 
say  as  he  did  to  some  of  her  white  friends  not  many  years  ago: 

“Yes,  it  was  the  missionaries  who  told  us  about  God.  Before 
they  came  we  just  sat  here  in  darkness.  How  the  witch-doctors 
used  to  fool  us!  Now  we  know  better.  You  have  told  us  the 
truth  about  God.  Yet  all  who  say  they  are  believers  do  not  act 
like  real  Christians.  Some  of  the  members  of  the  church 
commit  the  same  sins  that  my  people  in  the  kraals  commit. 
That  I  don’t  like.  If  a  man  says  he  chooses  the  Lord,  then  he 
should  be  different  from  those  who  have  not  professed  to  do  so. 
The  trouble  is,  some  men  put  religion  on  and  off  just  as  they  do 
coats  and  trousers.  That’s  not  right. 

“I  see  differently  from  the  way  I  used  to  see.  Years  ago  I 
opposed  the  idea  of  children  going  to  school.  I  don’t  do  so  any 
more.  The  only  complaint  I  now  have  is  that  the  missionaries 
don’t  keep  our  boys  and  girls  at  school  long  enough.  They 
come  back  not  half  ripe.  They  must  be  taught  all  the  books 
and  all  the  industries.  Some  people  say  this  peaceful  condition 
is  due  to  the  white  man’s  government.  But  I  don’t  think  so. 
Could  the  government  keep  us  Zulus  from  fighting?  No,  in¬ 
deed.  This  peace  is  due  not  to  laws  but  to  preaching!” 

The  old  chief  has  died  and  now  one  of  Nomdehe’s  half  brothers 
is  chief  in  his  stead.  Nomdehe’s  mother  has  become  a  Chris¬ 
tian.  Because  she  is  not  well  and  needs  her,  Nomdehe  has  been 
obliged  to  give  up  teaching  and  is  living  with  her  mother  in  the 
kraal.  In  spite  of  her  pagan  surroundings,  she  appears  a  bright, 
earnest  Christian.  She  has  not  yet  married,  perhaps  because 
a  Christian  young  man  cannot  afford  to  marry  the  Chief’s 
daughter;  yet  she  finds  much  to  do  and  is  a  faithful  church 
member.  How  she  must  rejoice  as  year  by  year  she  sees  many 
of  her  Zulu  sisters  finding  in  the  love  of  Jesus,  the  perfect  love 
which  casteth  out  fear! 


DONA  FELICITAS  OF  MEXICO 

The  Founder  of  a  Church 


By  Sara  B.  Howland 


OWN  in  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Santiago  River  lies  the 
little  village  of  San  Miguel.  It  is  really  not  much  more 
than  a  ranch,  with  its  clusters  of  tiny  houses  made  of 
adobe,  or  often  of  interwoven  twigs,  and  thatched  roofs;  with 
only  one  street,  the  others  being  mere  paths  here  and  there 
leading  to  the  different  homes  with  little  semblance  of  regularity. 
There  is  an  ancient-looking  Catholic  church  and  a  room  where 
the  children  shout  their  lessons  in  the  nerve-racking  manner  of 
Oriental  countries,  and  sometimes  there  is  an  open  window 
through  which  some  ambitious  man  sells  matches  and  pins 
together  with  native  liquors  and  a  few  groceries. 

From  here,  years  ago,  a  widow  made  her  way  into  the  city  of 
Guadalajara,  carrying  her  little  girl  of  five  years,  hoping  to  gain 
a  livelihood.  The  lands  left  her  by  her  husband  were  hopelessly 
entangled  in  lawsuits.  In  those  little  villages,  scarcely  anybody 
can  “read  the  title  clear,”  for  houses  and  lands  are  “pawned” 
again  and  again,  and  it  is  difficult  to  divide  a  small  property 
satisfactorily  among  a  dozen  relatives,  no  one  of  whom  has  any 
money  with  which  to  buy  out  the  rest! 

So  Dona  Felicitas,  strong  and  determined  to  get  an  education 
for  her  children,  left  the  sleepy  village  behind  her  and  soon  found 
herself  working  in  the  kitchen  of  the  mission  school  for  girls, 
where  she  first  entered  with  fear  and  trembling,  not  knowing 
what  would  befall  her  among  the  terrible  protestantes. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  house  that  all  should  attend  morning 
prayers  and  not  more  than  two  or  three  days  passed  before 
Dona  Felicitas  was  there  with  radiant  face.  In  her  case,  there 
was  no  long  struggle  with  old  convictions.  She  had  long  been 


5  8  N at i  ve  Help  ers 

waiting  for  just  such  a  message  of  love  and  good  will,  and  her 
spirit  leaped  into  the  fellowship  of  believers. 

Her  warm  heart  made  her  beloved  at  once  by  teachers  and 
pupils,  and  her  happy  nature,  like  her  name  which  was  as  pro¬ 
phetic  as  that  of  many  an  old  patriarch,  gave  her  a  wonderful 
influence  over  all  with  whom  she  came  in  contact.  Faithful 
in  her  work,  motherly  towards  all  the  girls — maybe  a  little  too 
easy-going  for  perfect  discipline,  the  teachers  felt  sometimes — 
but,  after  all,  she  was  such  a  comfortable  person  to  have  around. 
If  she  occasionally  saved  a  torta  from  her  own  supper  for  the 
naughty  child  “who  had  to  go  to  bed  by  day,”  one  might  be 
oblivious.  It  was  our  Responsibility  (with  a  capital),  but  of 
course  she  had  never  studied  Pedagogy  and  could  be  forgiven 
for  lapses ! 

The  joyful  experience  of  Dona  Felicitas  could  not  long  be 
kept  to  herself.  As  soon  as  she  really  grasped  the  thought  of 
the  Infinite  Love  that  had  sought  her,  of  relief  from  the  crushing 
sense  of  unforgiven  sin  and  from  the  impossibility  of  ever  getting 
plenary  absolution,  she  yearned  with  all  her  heart  to  win  her 
own  brother,  Benigno.  The  opportunity  soon  came,  for  he 
made  frequent  visits  to  the  city,  riding  the  forty  miles  on  his 
old  white  mare,  or  spending  several  days  on  the  way  driving  a 
train  of  donkeys  with  their  loads  of  corn  or  sugar  cane  to  sell. 

Don  Benigno  was  also  named  by  inspiration.  Truly  he  was 
“the  benign  man,”  a  real  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  in  loose 
white  trousers  and  blouse,  his  striped  serape  over  his  shoulders, 
his  broad  sombrero  with  silver  cord  covering  his  gray  head. 
Gentle  of  manner  and  of  soft,  slow  speech  was  Don  Benigno, 
saluting  with  courteous  gravity,  as  we  found  him  in  the  quaint 
old  kitchen  with  Dona  Felicitas.  Even  so  might  Jacob  have 
stood  before  Pharaoh  in  Egypt,  with  the  quiet  dignity  of  an  an¬ 
cient  race  showing  through  all  his  deliberate  movements. 

We  were  all  drawn  to  him  at  once  and  it  seemed  most  natural 
that  he  should  be  served  with  dinner  “in  a  lordly  dish”  of  brown 
pottery  and  that  Dona  Felicitas  should  take  out  her  big  Bible 
as  soon  as  the  kitchen  was  tidy  for  the  afternoon.  He  stayed 
a  day  or  two,  listening  intently,  finally  reading  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment  for  himself,  as  he  had  more  education  than  many  of  his 


Dona  Felicitas 


59 

village  companions;  and  when  he  returned  to  his  home  with  a 
Bible  of  his  own,  he  was  as  one  with  a  new  vision. 

The  two  at  once  began  to  work  in  their  village  and  as  there 
were  many  relatives  of  the  same  good  old  stock,  simple-hearted 
people  eager  to  learn  the  truth,  the  leaven  of  the  Gospel  began  to 
work  in  an  extraordinary  manner.  Soon  Dona  Felicitas  asked 
to  have  some  of  the  brethren  of  the  church  go  down  to  hold 
services  in  a  house  belonging  to  her  sister.  Strangely  enough, 
it  was  the  only  house  in  the  whole  village  with  an  “upper  room,” 
and  it  was  quite  a  landmark  as  one  entered  the  narrow  street, 
not  far  from  the  neglected  Catholic  church  where,  at  very 
irregular  intervals,  a  priest  came  to  say  mass  and  to  baptize  all 
the  new  babies  of  the  flock. 

Next,  the  missionary  was  invited  to  visit  the  new  believers 
and  to  strengthen  them  in  their  faith;  and  an  exciting  experience 
he  had.  Though  the  priest  had  long  neglected  this  little  parish, 
the  presence  of  the  foreigner  aroused  the  opposition  of  the 
fanatics.  The  tall  grass  that  lined  the  path  to  the  village  was 
tied  in  many  places  to  trip  the  stranger  and  groups  of  excited 
men  and  women  beat  on  pans  and  pails  in  a  derisive  welcome. 
The  service  went  on,  however,  and  the  room  was  filled  with 
earnest  inquirers,  asking  questions  and  wishing  to  buy  Bibles 
and  Testaments  for  their  own  use. 

A  school  came  next  and  the  first  graduate  of  Corona  Institute 
in  Guadalaja,  Tomasa  Perez,  willingly  went  to  throw  her  whole 
heart  into  a  work  of  teaching  day  school  and  night  classes  and 
Sunday  school  and  leading  Christian  Endeavor  meetings.  Strange 
tales  were  circulated  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  protestantes  were 
worshiping  a  young  virgin;  and  those  who  did  not  go  to  see  what 
really  was  happening  circulated  the  story  that  a  goat  was  sac¬ 
rificed  at  the  meetings,  and  that  the  blood  of  young  children 
was  sold  as  a  medicine. 

But  the  Word  grew  and  multiplied  and  before  long  theie  were 
fourteen  Christians  who  desired  to  form  a  church  organization. 
So  “letters  missive”  were  written  to  the  churches  and  delegates 
were  appointed  and,  one  day,  a  happy  band  of  us  went  down  from 
Guadalajara  to  take  part  in  the  great  occasion.  The  brethren 
and  sisters  had  made  great  preparation  for  the  event,  under  the 


6o 


Native  Helpers 

direction  of  Dona  Felicitas,  the  organizer  and  the  moving  spirit 
of  the  place.  The  young  people  had  brought  branches  and 
flowers  from  the  mountain  and  the  long  dark  room  which  was 
to  be  used  as  a  church — it  had  not  even  a  window — was  decorated 
with  brilliant  yellow  blossoms.  Seats  had  been  made  of  logs, 
a  baby  organ  was  brought  from  the  city,  an  ancient  decanter 
and  glasses  formed  the  communion  set. 

We  missionaries  were  lodged  in  the  upper  room,  reached  by  a 
precipitous  stairway.  There  were  two  great  windows  open 
towards  the  mountain  and  on  the  walls  were  nests  of  the  birds 
which  flew  back  and  forth  over  our  heads  in  the  early  morning. 
And  the  collation!  Do  not  think  that  these  dear  people  had  to 
be  instructed  that  when  a  council  is  called  it  is  the  custom  for 
the  delegates  to  eat  copiously  of  viands  prepared  by  the  sisters 
of  the  church!  Their  natural  hospitality  was  sufficient.  There 
was  a  long  table  covered  by  cloths  of  drawn  work  and  crochet, 
dishes  collected  from  every  home;  turkeys,  chickens,  the  ancient 
moly ,  famed  since  the  time  of  Homer,  with  its  seasoning  of 
chocolate  and  sesame,  pipian ,  the  sabroso  dish  served  at  wed¬ 
dings,  tortillas  hot  from  the  griddle,  fruit  and  the  fragrant  cara- 
colillo  coffee  with  odors  surpassing  those  of  Araby  the  Blest. 

The  crowning  service  was  in  the  evening,  when  house,  patio 
and  street  were  packed  with  people.  We  have  been  in  many  a 
gathering  representing  the  spiritual  power  and  Christian  culture 
of  the  finest  churches  of  the  United  States,  but  never  have  we 
felt  more  deeply  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  was  a 
solemn  moment  when  the  fourteen  believers  stood  with  hands 
clasped,  forming  a  circle  in  the  center  of  the  room  and  took  the 
vow  to  be  loyal  members  of  the  new  Congregational  Church  in 
San  Miguel.  And  most  faithfully  did  these  charter  members 
work  for  the  upbuilding  of  the  faith. 

The  church  never  has  had  a  settled  pastor,  as  all  the  members 
have  found  it  hard  to  provide  even  the  necessities  of  life  for  their 
own  families,  yet  it  has  held  together  although  nearly  all  of  the 
original  band  has  passed  to  the  Church  on  high.  Dona 
Felicitas  was  one  of  the  first  to  go.  She  had  left  her  work  in  the 
school  and  taken  rooms  in  the  city,  rooms  always  full  of  guests 
from  her  village,  together  with  every  wandering  soul  who  needed 


Dona  Felicitas 


6 1 

a  home.  How  kind  she  was  to  poor  Juan  Rosas,  one  of  the  young 
men  who  walked  a  thousand  miles  to  attend  the  Colegio  In- 
ternacional!  He  became  a  colporter  and  was  doing  good  work 
in  his  field  when  he  was  found  to  have  contracted  tuberculosis. 
He  could  not  remain  in  the  school,  his  home  was  far  away — what 
should  he  do?  Dona  Felicitas  answered  the  question.  With 
loving  hospitality  she  took  him  into  her  small  home  and  tenderly 
cared  for  him  until  his  death. 

Soon  afterwards  she  herself  contracted  pneumonia  and,  after 
a  short  struggle,  full  of  faith  in  her  Saviour,  she  went  into  the 
presence  of  the  Master  whom  she  served  so  faithfully.  Dear 
Felicitas  has  never  been  forgotten.  Many  there  are  who  owe 
to  her  their  entrance  into  Light,  many  who  miss  her  cheery  smile 
and  never-failing  help.  We  are  told  that  “happy”  and  “blessed” 
mean  the  same  in  Biblical  phrasing,  and  we  love  to  follow  the 
thought  in  the  life  of  Felicitas.  To  the  very  end  she  fulfilled 
the  symbolism,  “blessing  and  blessed.” 


. 


DATE  DUE 

■■3  1  7  ’jq 

1  7  70 

GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U.S  A. 

JUBILEE  ISSUE 

1917 


